Echo in the Night: the 34th Hunger Games
by xPoptartsx
Summary: A scream is heard throughout the night that bounces off the canyons walls, echoing as it travels through each cavern, each cave system. A shiver is sent down the spines of those who hear the cannon blasting, signifying another tribute has been killed. Another one down, how many left to go? (CLOSED SYOT)
1. Prologue

Heels click on the ground. The sound of breathing echoes throughout the silent hall. Head Gamemaker Suptilissima Femina walks down the hall towards the programming room where the magic happens each year. What is this magic you might ask? To the Capital's joy and the District's demise, each year a Hunger Games is held in the ruins from what the world use to be. It could be held in an abandoned forest or in the frosty lands north of Panem, and just about anywhere else possible. The fun yet challenging part is that no arena is allowed to be reused, so trying to find or form an arena could prove a struggle, but for Suptilissima Femina, she's willing to accept the challenge. She just got this job and she's not ready to give it up so soon. These Games have to be perfect.

The Hunger Games is a televised program that is yearly. During these, 24 tributes, unless under different circumstances, are sent into an original arena where they battle to the death. The winner gets fame and fortune, something everyone dreams of but only selected few receive. To the Capital, these Games are the best thing to happen since Panem came to be, but to the poor Districts, these Games are Hell on earth. Who would enjoy sending their child into a battle to the death and potentially never see them again? No one. But of course, there's always the exception. That exception is the Career Districts of 1, 2, and 4. These parents willingly train their children for these Games for the fame and glory they thirst for. If the child loses, the family is seen as a disgrace, if the child wins, they're the greatest family until another Career in their District wins.

As Suptilissima Femina walks down the eerie blue hallway, illuminated by bright white lights, she hears a voice call her out. This voice belongs to none other than a Gamemaker, this one in particular being one of the few who create and manipulate the arena for this year.

"Suptilissima Femina, how would you like the streams positioned?" they ask.

The Head Gamemaker turns to look at the young man who called her out. She motions for him to go back into the room and she follows silently behind him. As he takes his seat, she stands behind him, admiring the work they have done.

A giant canyon is this year's arena. It's completely barren of all life except for a few animals and cacti here and there. The canyon itself has a system of caves inside of it meant for hiding away from harsh winters or the scorching sun. The canyon has several different levels all conjoined, almost like a stair case to each one. If one were to go all the way to the top and about 40 meters away, they'd be greeted by a forest with small lakes scattered about, each one questionable, each one desirable, each one on a timer of dry and filled.

Inside the canyon resides the Cornucopia, a shiny, golden structure that will hold the food, canteens, water, and weaponry for the Games. Anything not obtained at the Cornucopia would need to be gained at the start or during the Games, or made by the tributes themselves. The arena was beautiful and one would be tempted to view it had it not been used for gruesome Games at a later date. After these Games, no one would want to visit this beautiful canyon. Blood stained caves and grounds aren't the most tempting tourist sight around.

"Put the streams around the edge of the arena. Make it so that if they hop in it they'll be whisked away to the end, destined to be seared to their death by the electric force of the edge," Head Gamemaker Femina stated.

"That's a great idea," the voice of Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem for about three years now, rang out.

"Thank you sir," she replied in her monotone voice. She heard a set of footsteps walking up to her and knew he was next to her. He admired her arena. It was beautiful, but not for long. The flow of the look, the beauty of the forest, the safety everything promised; it was perfect.

"Excellent job. What about the weather?" He questioned.

"A different story each night," She replied smoothly. She could physically feel the band that was holding her hair back pulling at her. Her dry hands were clammy from nerves over the President admiring her first arena.

"Intriguing. I look forward to your arena being put into action," President Snow complimented. Suptilissima Femina was slightly taken aback, but didn't let it show. The two turned to each other, shook hands, and she said quietly,"May the odds be ever in their favor."

"Happy 34th Hunger Games."

* * *

**So here's my attempt at writing again! I've been on the fence about a SYOT since Day 1 back in 2012 and here I am, finally doing one. Sorry if this arena is confusing, I just got inspired randomly and starting writing words out and here was my outcome. Hopefully this made sense and wasn't just a train wreck, I'm actually trying to make it good. Oh, and before questions are asked, "Suptilissima Femina" is Latin for "strict woman", so I deemed it an appropriate name for this Gamemaker.**

**Now comes the fun part, the tributes! Here's is the checklist you need to fill out in order to have a tribute in these Games. Please try to PM these to me, but if you are a Guest and review, I'll try to include yours as well, but no guarantees.**

**You are required but are not limited to the following:**

**Name**

**Age**

**District (please include a secondary one as well)**

**Appearance**

**Personality**

**Family**

**Interview Angle**

**Strategy**

**Strengths**

**Weaknesses**

**Predicted Training Score**

**Allies? Solitude?**

**Reaped/Volunteered**

**Token?**

**Predicted Placement in Games (how long they'll survive)**

**I know this seems like a lot but it's just a bunch of simple answers, so I think it's that time consuming. But I beg of you, ****_please_**** don't be afraid to use details, if you just say your tribute is a one-word adjective, you're not giving me much to work with. I want to make your tribute as true to your description as possible. One last little thing, if you could make them a little unique instead of just your basic tribute you see in every other SYOT, that would be amazing!**

**Sponsorship details shall be posted later, and be sure to check out my bio occasionally for any updates regarding this story, tributes, sponsoring, etc.**

**Thanks for reading and hopefully you're looking forward to this story as much as I am!  
Per ardua ad astra ("Through difficulties to the stars")  
-xPoptartsx**


	2. Final Update Overview

**So we finally have all of the tributes! I'm not exactly sure when to start publishing my chapters, but I'm proud to say I was able to finish District Four's Reaping today! I just felt like throwing in this little update just so that you guys know and don't get mini heart attack when I start posting Reapings. It's been a long challenge getting tributes, but I thank you all for bearing with me and submitting.**

**Sadly, most of the tributes sent in were all around the seventeen mark, geniuses, and good with plants/healers. I'll try not to make everything seem so repetitive because of this, but this means that probably more tributes will die in the Bloodbath because virtually everyone can't handle a weapon. This leaves me with a lot of wiggle room regarding Training, but the Games should be very interesting as well.**

**I'm going to delete the other Update Chapters because I really don't think you guys will have any interest in them anymore. But I'm happy to say that the sponsorship and Capital chapters shall be staying the way they are, and if you're reading this after I deleted those chapters, here's what they are:**

**Sponsorship****For sponsorship, I'm going to be basing these off of the reviews I get and character development. The more support a tribute has, the mor elikely I am to keep them alive, but if they get themselves into a sticky situation, then they may end up dead. The whole survival thing will be based off of what they get themselves into based off of the personalities they have and how the Games effect them in the Arena.**

**Capital Chapters****  
I'll be ranging from 3-4 perspectives each Capital chapter. I'm going to add chapters like what happens at dark whether it be between private training and the interviews, or the night before the Games, or the night before Training, etc. I'm hoping to have only one or two chapters like this and then move back into the actual plot. I'm going to make sure that every tribute gets a perspective in the Capital. By perspective, I'm hoping you'll understand this yourself once I post the first chapter later this week. It will be based off of third person so that we can further explain the character's thoughts as well as the people around them's thought's without having a break in the page to say "Some Other Tributes POV". If you don't like this, giev it a try for me because you may end up likin git. And if you don't like it still, you can just leave this story because I've wasted too much time writing to restart the entire book for you. I'm here to please everyone, not just you. This sounds rude, but I can't help it. If we come to some mutual agreement with this, then we all win. Let's make this story a good one, not a messed up one.**

**So when I post my first Reaping Chapter, don't hesitate to lash out at me because I don't want to keep making mistakes with each Reaping and chapter I write. And please be sure to review because it's your reviews that inspire me to write. Each review I get fills me up with happiness and I smile. It's always good to know you have support and that ****_someone_**** likes my story because I judge my work very hard. You know what they say, the hardest critic of yourself is yourself.**

**That's all I have for you today! If you guys really want, I'll post the first set of Reapings, but if not, expect an update probably Friday night unless I surprise you guys tomorrow or something. I haven't worked out all of the details regarding a posting schedule yet (whoops).**

**Fac recte et nil time. ("Do rightly and fear nothing")  
-xPoptartsx**


	3. District One Reaping

_The sun rises over District One. The day everyone has been waiting for has finally arrived: Reaping Day. Two teenagers will be selected or volunteered to go into the brutal Hunger Games. Everyone is anxious to volunteer to avoid shame being brought upon their family. So that leaves the question out in the open: who will be fast enough to volunteer? In District One, speed is key because most everyone strives to go into the Games and slaughter anyone in their way. For Jewels Haughback, she knows she's not the fastest one around, but she is determined to volunteer regardless._

Jewels Haughback is nothing short of perfect, or at least, she believes that and is convinced everyone in Panem agrees with her. Could one blame her? Her light brown hair is always in perfect placement, not one hair out of line, her skin is free of any scratches, scars, or markings, and her green eyes, as gorgeous they are, always seem to sparkle when the rays of the sun hit them or when something goes her way. So is she really selfish? Possibly, but she doesn't like to reflect on that fact. Oh no, the only fact she is focusing on today is that she will be volunteering for the Hunger Games and there is no way she is going to let her slowness take her down again. She has been waiting for this day since she turned twelve five years ago, and, deep within her stomach, she has a feeling that today will be the day.

She wakes up to the sun in her face that Reaping morning of her seventeenth year. A smile slowly creeps onto her face as she realizes exactly what is happening today. As she sits up, she turns to the clock on her wall. Three hours. Just three hours until she seals her fate and makes her father proud of her. Just to have a child volunteer is a glory itself, it's not as marvelous as your child winning, but it's incredible nonetheless.

Jewels hops out of her bed and walks downstairs. _A Victor has to eat_, she thinks to herself with a grin. She laughs to herself a bit. _Don't get ahead of yourself Jewels, you haven't even volunteered yet. _Despite her mental scolding, Jewels couldn't help but admire the idea of winning. This year was going to be the year she did something incredible and make both of her parents proud of her.

As she grabs some food from the fridge, some simple assorted berries, she hears footsteps walking up to her. Immediately, she knows who it is for there could only be one other person it could be. Her father reaches around her and grabs a glass so he can fill it up with whatever he decided to drink that morning, which would most likely be water. The silence between the two could kill. A father-daughter relationship should be a close one but theirs was just mediocre. With him constantly working and she always training or being with her friends, their paths hardly ever cross. Jewels decides to take the initiative and break the silence that lingers.

"I'm going to do it," she states. She doesn't need to go into full description about what she's going to do, for her father already knows. Ever since her mother died, she had talked about going into the Games, winning, and bringing happiness back to their little family.

"You sure about this, Jewels?" her father questions.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life." she responds sharply. She inwardly winces a bit at her harsh, quick voice.

"If you think you can do it, then do it. I don't doubt you'll try. Just," he paused, not sure if he should dare to continue,"stay safe when you're in there, okay? I-I don't want to lose you too."

That simple statement was enough to shock Jewels. She never realized that her father was dreading this day. A tiny pit of guilt filled her gut, but she pushed it down. Guilt would only make her back out which is something she would most definitely not do. She turned to him, popped a berry in her mouth, chewed, swallowed hard, and said,"You won't lose me. I'm going to win, remember?"

"I have no doubts that you will," was all he said before he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jewels to her thoughts.

* * *

On the other side of District One resides Cian Zaniec, the closet genius. Typically the genius males and females reside in the District best known for technology, District Three. Cian Zaniec is less than typical though. With a strong passion for something greater than just throwing knives or swinging a sword, he found a great interest in anything mental. Numbers, facts, history, Cian loves it all. He could name off the top of his head precisely how tall the Justice Building is without any measuring devices whatsoever or he could tell you the percentage of brainwashed people in Panem, meaning those who think the Hunger Games is absolutely amazing. But, much to his distaste, knowledge doesn't always let you win the Hunger Games. Strategy sure, but if you don't know to handle a weapon or defend yourself, you can pretty much consider yourself dead already.

That morning, he is up early reading another one of his books from his bookshelf. He's read them all so many times that if he doesn't gingerly turn the pages, they'll fall out. But they haven't fallen out yet, so he just keeps on reading them until the inevitable happens and he's forced to find some way to reattach it.

He wasn't sure how long he was sitting on his bed reading, already in his Reaping clothes, until he heard a soft knock on his door. He mumbled his consent for whoever it was to come in. As he put down his book, his dark blue eyes traveled up to see his younger sister, Georgia, walk in. She was one of the only people who knew of his obsession with the human mind and his thirst to discover what it was capable of holding and knowing.

"What do you need?" he asked plainly.

"Today's the day." Georgia responded.

"Yeah, it is," he paused,"Are you scared?"

"No, I'm not. Besides, someone would volunteer for me if I got Reaped. You shouldn't be scared either," she smiled.

"I'm only in there, what, five times? And there must be at least 163 slips in there because everyone knows that getting tesserae here is useless because practically everyone is rich enough to bleed money so that leaves at a...3.06% chance of being Reaped?" Cian explained. His face was still scrunched up in thought, double-checking his mental math.

"That's pretty low. You sure you did your mental math right?"

"Are you questioning my knowledge?"

"Quite frankly, yes I am. There's no way you only have a 3% chance of being Reaped."

"It's a 3.06% chance, and besides, it's just a rough estimate. How am I suppose to know how many slips they slide into the jars each year?"

"Well you _are _the genius of District One. I don't see why you just don't get up, pack your bags, and head over to District Three where your brain could actually be needed."

"And leave you here with dad? No way."

"That's right, I forgot, you're too nice for that," Georgia snickered. The smug smile she gave him was enough for him to became irritated at her presence and begin wishing she would just leave him to his thoughts and books.

"Can you go away now? I'm trying to read," Cian said,"Besides, your stay here has exceeded its extent."

"Alright alright. But we're leaving soon. Hopefully your 3.06% won't be in your favor and you won't be Reaped." And with that, Georgia left the room. What Cian knew that Georgia didn't was that the current 18 year-old teenagers were all unprepared to fight and were more than likely not to volunteer. He knew, deep down, that no one would be volunteering from the males unless they wanted to go on a suicide mission. Boy did Cian wish for his 96.94% to be in his favor.

* * *

The Reaping was crowded as usual. Teenagers of all ages eagerly went to get signed in and hop into their age sections. Jewels was one of the first few people there, a smile plastered onto her face in anticipation. Her friends weren't there around her for they lined up in order of arrival time as well as by age, so Jewels was in the front line for seventeen year-old girls. Eagerness filled every bone in her lean body. _Come on let's just get the show on the road already,_ she mentally begged those onstage.

They must have been mind-readers, for as soon as the thought left her mind, the District escort walked onstage. The attention of the audience traveled about from the flamboyant man in bright magenta to the television screen which had shown the history of Panem, and then back to Mr. Magenta who looked more than excited to get the Reaping portion started.

His pale, perfect hand reached into the deep glass and began fishing through the slips to find the perfect one. He must have been fishing around for about a minute until a smile of content filled his face and he said,"This one: this is the perfect one."

He showed off the "perfect" slip for a moment before opening it slowly. He raised his eyebrows and said in his perky voice,"Lucretia-"

"I volunteer!"

It took Jewels a moment to realize that she had just spoken aloud. She hadn't felt herself talking until she heard her voice ring out around her. That's when the excitement dam broke inside her and washed away all of the anticipation she had felt not even a minute before. A great smile grew on her face as she began strutting up to the stage. Her perfect life was going perfectly once again.

"And who might you be?"

"Jewels Haughback," the girl, now standing next to Mr. Magenta, had said with her head high, a great smile playing on her lips.

Cian Zaniec recognized the tall girl on stage. No doubt, she was beautiful and could capture any man with her perfect smile, but Cian couldn't help but notice that the aura she gave off was one of selfishness and overconfidence. Brat was 100% the perfect word to describe her but he would never dare say this aloud. Like Georgia had said earlier, he was too nice to do that. So, like the good boy he was, he simply kept up his dumb act that he had put on for his entire life.

"Beautiful! Now, on to the boys."

Cian felt his stomach twist. Would the odds be in his favor?

"Cian Zaniec!" he heard be called out.

Nope. The odds never seemed to be in his favor.

He bit his lip hard as he realized that he should head to the stage to take his place next to Jewels, who was officially his District partner. He kept selfishly praying for that suicidal volunteer to just volunteer already. He couldn't go into the Hunger Games! He wasn't prepared physically nor mentally. But as silence filled the air around him and no one volunteered, he knew he had to begin accepting the facts like he always had done and to realize that he was staring death right in the face.

And death wasn't a pretty sight.

"Let's give a hand for our two tributes!" Mr. Magenta exclaimed with a smile too bright to be humane.

Cian hadn't even noticed that he had made it to the stage until his mind was interrupted by the strange man next to him. If he was just going to keep zoning out, then his usual dumb act wouldn't be that hard to do and keep up.

Applause had erupted for a minute and stayed even as they walked away to say their final goodbyes. The sound proof door, once closed, blocked out any remaining applause that continued. Both tributes were lost in their minds, one in secret excitement and one in secret fear.

There was no going back now.

* * *

**And there we have it, after what feels like 20 years, the story has officially begun! So this will be the basic format for any upcoming chapters, mainly Reapings. I must have proofread this chapter five times before actually getting the courage to post it. I've been really scared of feedback, but I'd really like everyone to review so I know what you think about all of this. Any criticisms, praise, or suggestions are welcome wholeheartedly because heaven knows there's always room for improvement. Not sure when I'll post the next Reaping Chapter, but I would like to write one more Reaping Chapter before posting another chapter. Honestly, that shouldn't be too far off. My guess would be that I'll probably post again this weekend of early next week.**

**Seeing as this Author's Note is getting long, I'm just going to leave my thoughts here.  
Hope you liked the chapter! Be sure to review before you leave this story. I leave you with a Latin phrase for this chapter (FYI, I will probably do this for every chapter because I'm a geek).**

**In bello parvis momentis magni casus intercedunt ("In war great events are caused by small things")**


	4. District Two Reaping

_District Two had always been the oddball District when it came to the Reaping. The Training Center preselected their tributes so that only the best of the best available would go into the Games, giving District Two the upper hand against the rivals they would encounter. There were always two males and two females chosen to volunteer each year. The tributes this year were certainly going to be nearly invincible against their competitors, or so the Training Center always claimed. But, with only 8 Victors in the existing pool, that strategy wasn't necessarily accurate. Regardless, they still held their statement as true and gloated about it to everyone they'd encounter from outside of Two.  
_

Maybe it's a curse that was placed on Auden Stucco. What had he done in his life to deserve his fate? He had pulled through and gone to the Training Center despite being part of the fraction of people in District Two who were "poor". He was always friendly to his peers, treated his siblings fairly, and protected his family. Perhaps it was the fate of him becoming a drunkard like his jailed father starting to play with him. But would his greatest fear really start becoming reality and be the death of him?

Apparently it could be, why else would he have been selected to be a volunteer this year? Sure he has strength and a strategic mind, but was that really enough to be thrust into the Hunger Games at age eighteen? According to whoever chose the volunteers, he was a "shining star in the Training Center who would most _definitely_ win!" Yep, this was fate playing with him. No doubts whatsoever.

His siblings, Marcus and Marina, had been so proud of him. Their incredible older brother was going into the Games, what could be more honorable and brag-worthy than that? And his mother, his poor mother, didn't even have a clue that he had been selected. With three jobs, he didn't want to stress her even more. He knew that when he said his final goodbyes, she'd be furious with him, but telling her beforehand would only worsen his situation. Besides, he didn't want to risk it, he'd rather deal with the aftershocks.

He was sitting on the couch fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. He felt Marcus' eyes staring at him, but that was the last thing on his mind. His naive little sister had been stupid enough to go to the District Two Jailhouse and visit their poor excuse of a father before the Reaping. Auden hated that man with all of his heart. What was going through that man's mind when he decided to kill seven innocent people and to go as far and rape one of them? Did he seriously think that drinking would make the problem go away and then by taking out his drunken anger on his family he would be compensated for the lives he took? It was either he was really dumb or...well really, his father was pretty much the dumbest man in District Two. He was impulsive, acted on whatever he thought was good at the time, regretted it, drank his problems away, abused his family, then repeated the cycle. Why hadn't he learned that that never worked? Auden would probably never know and would rather never find out because that meant he would have to face the beast himself.

As the door opened behind him, Auden's trustworthy, welcoming facade escaped. Marina came into his view and in an instant he jumped up and strode over to her. The true Auden was about to be revealed.

"Where the heck were you?" He already knew the answer.

"Visiting father." He was right.

"Why on earth would you visit that drunkard?" He knew the answer to this too, but he couldn't tame his anger.

"Because he's my father and I love him! Why don't you?"

"Because that man-" he caught himself before revealing what his father really did to poor, innocent Marina.

"Because that man what?" she pushed. Auden subconsciously realized he would have to safely twist the truth to prevent her from knowing the reality of it all, so he, for once, allowed himself to stretch the truth and omit the gore as best as possible on the spot. Too bad his temper was going. Feelings always seemed to override his thoughts when his anger was present.

"Because that man betrayed us all and wound up in jail. He doesn't deserve our forgiveness or our pity. He doesn't even deserve life! He better be damn grateful he wasn't killed for everything he did," Auden spat, not even comprehending what he was saying. Whenever he yelled, it all became a blur to him. He just completely let go from everything and let his mouth take control over his mind.

"He does deserve our forgiveness! He'll be out one day, I know it! And then we can be a family again," Marina retorted.

"That includes you implying that Auden would be winning these Games," Marcus intruded.

That put a silence on the argument at hand. Marina looked up at her older brother with glassy eyes. She had completely forgotten he was volunteering against his will today. She immediately regretted even going to visit her father.

"Auden, I-"

"Shut up and get dressed. We're leaving soon." Auden walked out of the house, not wanting to even look at his siblings.

* * *

Celeste Brooklyn Eversong couldn't wipe the grin off of her face all day. Today was going to change her life forever. After the Reaping today, she would be free for the rest of her life to do whatever she pleased with it. She would no longer have the stress of being Reaped and she could die her natural death when the time came. She would live her life caring for everyone around her with her knowledge on healing and never worry about a single thing in her way. Oh how she anticipated her dream to come true!

But for now, she would stay at home and practically be a stay-at-home mother. That was her life for about two days now. The mayor of District Two had given Celeste, his trustworthy maid, his newborn daughter. It hadn't been his idea but rather his wife's. She was a paranoid woman who was afraid that a Peacekeeper would come and screw up her family. So far, nothing bad had happened to either one of them, but she still didn't want to risk it.

Celeste didn't mind though. Two days in and she already loved little Nissa Rose with all of her heart. She was such a sweet child who would follow in Celeste's footsteps when she too grew up. Nissa may have been pronounced deaf, but she couldn't have been any less perfect to Celeste.

Currently, Nissa was sleeping and Celeste was reading one of her new books that her parents gave her. It was all about healing methods with plants. She recognized a few of the ways it mentioned but most of the methods were brand new and very intriguing. She'd have to bookmark them in her mind, maybe they would come in handy in the future.

"Celeste, are you ready?" she heard her father call. Damn it, she forgot it was Reaping day.

"Uh, yeah! Just give me a minute!" She hurriedly got up and stripped her night clothes off. She slipped on the first dress she grabbed and shoved shoes onto her feet. Sprinting down the stairs, she began combing her fingers through waist-long, raven black hair. She noticed her father and mother in the living room talking. When they saw her, they both shook their heads.

"Celeste? Were you reading your books again?" her mother, Andrea, asked.

"No, why would you ask that?" Celeste tried to lie.

"Because your dress in on backwards, sweetie," her mother replied. It was then that her daughter looked down and noticed that she had indeed dressed backwards, but hey her shoes were on the right feet. Did she get credit for that at least?

"Okay fine, you caught me, I was reading. That new book you got me is so amazing though!" she enthused. A smile grew on her face when she remembered her precious new book.

"We ought to take them away from her," her father, Casper, jokingly suggested.

"You can't do that, you love me too much," she replied.

"You are right, we do, but you need to learn time management," her father replied.

"Yeah, yeah maybe I'll work on that when I come back later."

"You better young lady." Whether he was talking about not volunteering, not getting reaped, or working on time management, she didn't know, but she just assumed all of them. Her mother got up and wrapped a warm arm around her daughter who was slightly taller than her. She said,"Now you best get changed. Wouldn't want you going outside like a fool."

"Maybe we should Andrea, I think it suits her," her father joked.

"Shut up, _Casper_!" Celeste pointed at her father with mock anger,"I'm going to fix this dress now."

* * *

How Auden made it to the Reaping without stabbing someone or punching a wall to release his anger was a surprise. He wasn't ruthless and bloodthirsty like everyone around him, but he did have his fair share of tantrums and anger meltdowns. He was going to call Marina out again but then he noticed that people were coming into view and he didn't want them to see him as rude towards his family, so he kept his mouth shut and wore a small grin on his face to help keep his cool.

"Auden-" Marcus started.

"Don't talk to him Marcus, he won't respond." Marina said, crossing her arms. Auden could feel the glare she was giving him behind his back.

"Alright. We'll see you soon Auden." And with that his siblings went to their respective areas: fifteen year-old boys and fifteen year-old girls.

Auden stepped in line with his fellow eighteen year-old boys. Dread filled his heart as it became heavy. He hates how he had to end his last moments with Marina on bad terms, but he couldn't blame himself. She was the one who visited their father against his rules. _You might have no other option but to forgive her before the inevitable happens and you're shipped off on that train to the Capital,_ he thought to himself. He huffed. Mental Auden was right. He had no other option.

"Welcome, welcome!" A peppy woman in an outfit that reminded Auden of a peacock stepped up to the microphone on the stage. Auden contained his laughter at her looks. It was rather ridiculous...and amusing.

* * *

After the usual video, Celeste was more antsy to finish the Reaping then to discover who would be sent to their death. She just wanted to go back home, spend time with her precious Nissa, read more of her new book, and live like that until she could actually apply for a real job, her dream job.

"As tradition goes, ladies shall go first!"

Peacock Lady wasn't slow and meaningful in digging through the bowl but rather quick and careless. She pulled out a slip with such speed that it flew out of her hand and off the stage. A Peacekeeper grabbed it from the ground, handed it back to Peacock Lady, and returned to his place. Red soon filled the blues, greens, and purples of her dress as she blushed in embarrassment.

"Ah, uh, yes yes. The female tribute for this year shall be..." she opened the slip slowly in fear of dropping it again,"Celeste Eversong!"

Not all stories have a fairytale ending, Celeste had decided at that moment. Earlier, she was living her dream, and now her dream shattered in front of her eyes. No more Nissa, no more books, no more joy for her from her on out, even if she won. She would never escape the Games. She saw the way some Victors acted after they won. Some were horrendous, some were normal, some were better than before. She would be the one to go into recluse and self pity over everything wrong in her life and what she had witnessed in the Games.

Celeste put on a brave face and removed her usual smile as she hesitantly began walking up to the stage to take her place as District Two's female tribute.

"Do I hear any volunteers?"

Silence.

"Very well, onto the boys we go!"

Auden watched Celeste up there. He recognized her. Occasionally he would see her walking to the mayor's house when he was heading to the Training Center. He had heard the rumors of her dropping out from the Training Center and didn't know whether to believe them or not, but now he knew that the rumors were indeed true.

This time, Peacock Lady had been rather gentle and slow in picking the boy tribute, not wanting to make another mistake in front of all these teenagers. She carefully drew out a slip and smiled to herself. She hadn't dropped this one! Auden was half tempted to clap for her, but suppressed the urge knowing it was the wrong time to do so.

"And for the boys we have..." with confidence, she opened the slip with speed and tore it down the middle. She frantically held them together to cover up her second mistake. "It's, uh, um...Re-Remus Korem...Komim? Koram?"

Deciding to stop her from embarrassing herself any more, Auden raised his hand high and called out,"I volunteer!"

She sent him a relived look as he walked up the steps to take his spot not to Celeste. Auden looked out in the audience and found Marina's eyes watching his. She gave him a small smile that he returned. Maybe they would be fine, even if he dies. Maybe fate was letting him have one wish fulfilled.

"And who might you be?" Peacock Lady questioned.

"Auden Stucco."

"And there we have it! Our two lovely tributes for this year's Hunger Games!"

A fairytale is a fairytale for a reason. Fairytales have happy endings. The protagonists don't suffer and have the best fate imaginable. For Celeste Eversong and Auden Stucco, their lives were far from a fairytale. Two protagonists were born into District Two and suffered and couldn't change their fates. _Maybe that's why dreams are just for sleep_, Celeste concluded, _That's why I can't live my dream, I'm not sleeping. I'm wide awake and this is complete reality._

* * *

**Okay so here's a few things I wanted to clear up after last and this chapter:  
**

**1\. Just because the parents or sibling(s) aren't involved in any dialogue in the Reaping chapter doesn't mean they are dead. If they are, I will either slide it into the Reaping chapter, a later chapter, or both.  
2\. Sometimes I dont' use line breaks because they make the chapter look choppy and I'm going for a flow factor.  
3\. I'm super stressed about writing this story, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy writing it. I'm just nervous that I'll become like every SYOT I myself have submitted to. I'm afraid I'll randomly lose inspiration and never write again, stop the book entirely, or just never finish it.  
4\. I hope you guys understand that some of these tributes were really sparse in detail and I didn't have the heart to deny them, so I kept them. No offense to the creators, but I get your character wrong in any way please do tell me.  
5\. Maybe now you're starting to realize why I'm struggling with the Careers? They're all so un-Career-like that it's kind of annoying yet cool if you catch my drift. Once again, no offense to the creators, but I'm trying to not make them all seem so alike by tweaking your descriptions just a hit. If I ever stray too much, please tell me and I'll be sure to get them on the right track.  
6\. As you can tell, I'm not including the final goodbyes because those would most definitely be repetitive and boring. I know practically everyone has a token, so what I'm going to do is just revealed the tokens throughout the chapters and, if it flows with the plot, have a flashback of sorts to the final goodbyes.  
7\. Regarding everyone's ages, I'll put them in the chapter but I'm not going to say "Some Tribute's POV, age 89" or whatever. I'll list the ages in my bio if you still don't know them even after every chapter I post.**

**That's just about everything I think. I'm glad you guys liked the first Reaping and hopefully you will enjoy this one. Yet again, I've edited all of these chapters like 5 times to make them as close to perfection and not garble as possible. I'm determined to make this story as realistic and enjoyable as possible, and your feedback is always a good guideline for that.**

**I'm going to wrap this little (or really long) Author's Note with, surprise surprise, a Latin phrase because, surprise surprise, I'm a Latin geek.**

**Respice, adspice, prospice. ("Examine the past, examine the present, examine the future.")**


	5. District Three Reaping

_District Three, the District of Technology. Geniuses tend to reside here which isn't such a surprise. If someone from this District were to win, it'd solely be because of their brain and strategic mind. Only once had someone from Three actually won because of their strength. Then again, there were only four Victors in this District, two of which were still alive. One had committed suicide, the other disappeared. Both had seen an outlet and decided to take the chance to escape Panem and their horrifying lives they had once lived and been content with. But nothing gold can stay._

Gold and bronze. Those are the two colors Roderick O'Neill sees as he tinkers with the home's power source. His mother would typically be doing this, the fixing and the tinkering, but, determined to show his knowledge, he was trying to fix it himself. His mother had taught him everything he knew about technology and his father taught him everything he knew about working with simple machines and maintenance. Roderick's parents were both a part of providing power to the District and the Capital. His mother was in the communication department of the Capital and his father the District's head infrastructure leader.

He murmurs a quiet cuss word as he gets shocked by an exposed wire. Typically he is great with his hands and straight with his mind, but today he has a lot on his mind. Today is Reaping Day, the day everyone in District Three fears. His older sister, Joyce, was able to escape the terrible fate of being Reaped, but he still had one year before he was home free.

Packing away the wiring, he shrugs and decides just to finish it off later after the Reaping. Besides, after today he will have all the time in the world to fix the damn electrical box.

Roderick stands up and walks back into the living room before flopping down onto the sofa. He drapes his arm over his eyes and just lays there, taking in the moment and the silence. With four other siblings, he will take any moment silent he is given and relish every second of it until he gets disturbed. He couldn't have been relaxing for no longer than five minutes before he felt someone sit on his stomach. He growled playfully, assuming it was one of his three younger siblings. Opening his eyes, he sat up and captured whichever sibling had sat on him before tickling their stomach. He was met with a high-pitched, girly shriek followed by,"Roderick! R-R-Roderick stop! Pl-ease!"

He gave his younger sister Samantha a wicked grin and stopped tickling her for a moment before starting back up again. The hysterical shrieks resumed shortly after. Roderick loved moments like these with his family. Moments where he could just let his laughter ring out, a genuine smile form on his face, and all his worries can just fly away into the wind.

"Roderick stop tickling your sister. We don't want her throwing up on you before you have to go," a stern voice called out at him. Releasing his sister, he got up and walked around the couch to his mother who still looked in her prime even after twenty-one years of non-stop mothering and working. He kissed his mother's cheek gently.

"Good morning mom," Roderick greeted her.

"Is it that good of a morning?" his mother responded,"You or Ryan could..."

Ryan was the middle child of the family between his two younger sisters, Brittany and Samantha, at age eleven, his older brother, Roderick, at eighteen, and his older sister, Joyce, at twenty-one. His family always seemed to have a active participant in the annual Reaping, but after today, two of the five children would be safe.

"Mother," Ryan appeared out of no where. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

"Seriously mom, who would even be willing to reap him? I mean have you _seen_ his face?" Roderick caught Ryan in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles on his brother's head.

"Hey quit it!" Ryan tried to escape his older brother.

"Roderick, stop. You two have to get ready." Joyce joined the conversation.

"All right, fine. I'll go get ready _madame_," he teased. Joyce returned Roderick's joke with a scowl. Typical sibling affection between the two.

* * *

"Euphoria! Eu-pho-ri-a! Wake up, wake _up_!"

Euphoria Kree was greeted with her shoulders shaking by an anonymous attacker. Although, the attacker wasn't so anonymous. Ever since Euphoria was twelve, she was always woken up with shaking shoulders or water to her face on the same day every year. That could only mean two things. One, her attacker was her younger sister Zilly, and two, today was Reaping Day.

"Get off of me!" _B__rat_, she added secretly.

"But Euphoria you have to get up so I can start doing your hair and your makeup and making you all pretty for today!" Zilly said with strong enthusiasm.

"Zilly, I'm already pretty enough, I don't need makeup to make me any better," she replied. Euphoria tried shoving Zilly off of her,"Get off of me already and let me sleep."

"You're so cranky in the morning," Zilly murmured, hopping off of her sister and exiting her room like the good little sister she was.

"_Finally_," Euphoria sighed. And with that, she closed her eyes and fell back into a deep sleep for a few hours. She dreamed of nothing but darkness, as usual. She was too old for dreams in her opinion, well that was the explanation as to why she never dreamed. She hasn't dreamed anything since she was twelve, the year she was first eligible to be in the Hunger Games. Was it fear that stopped her dreams, or the curse of reality? She had yet to defer that answer.

It was about half an hour before the Reaping started when Euphoria had woken up from her dream of nothingness. She got out of her bed and wandered downstairs, but not before running into her younger brother Bolt.

"Out of my way Bolt," Euphoria muttered harshly. Bolt responded immediately and sidestepped out of her way. He, even at his young age, knew how to handle his eldest sister. She was kind whenever she wanted to be, but most of the time she was just cocky or vain, sometimes both. The fact that she had just woken up as well didn't help her personality either. She wasn't a pretty sight in the morning, that's when her vain, "I'm-better-than-you" persona came out of it's shell.

"Euphoria Kree! Did you just wake up?" her mother, Ekaterina Kree, asked her.

"Yeah, deal with it. I could go to the Reaping like this and still look nicer than some of the girls around me," Euphoria argued.

"Euphoria! Do not talk of the poor like that!" her mother scolded.

"What? It's not my fault they willingly sacrifice themselves by voluntarily getting tesserae," she countered.

"I'm sorry darling, but in case you've forgotten, _we_ use to be that way until-" her mother was cut off by her oldest daughter.

"I know, I know. We would've been on the streets had it not been for father's incredible promotion. Well guess what mom, we can't live on what he's left behind forever! He's dead, you have no job, I say we start getting tesserae and training me so that when I'm eighteen I can go into the Hunger Games and win. C'mon, we all know I can do it," said Euphoria.

"You are not going into those Games unless you are Reaped, you hear me Euphoria? There's no way I am letting you go on a suicide mission."

"Watch me. After today, I'll be signing up for tesserae and there's nothing you can do about it. I'll go into those damned Games when I'm eighteen, cream the competition, come home and we'll never have to worry about food or money again because I'll be the Capital's precious little toy that they can't stand to see go back into poverty."

"Just go get ready for today, Euphoria. We'll finish this conversation later," her mother growled.

"Whatever."

* * *

Walking with only one of his siblings into the Reaping made Roderick feel safer. With this being his last year, that meant two of the five children would be safe from the Hunger Games. Sure his other three siblings would be in next year, Brittany and Samantha would be 12 and Ryan 16, but that was a whole year away, so Roderick didn't mind. The only thing he minded was that after this year he wouldn't be able to protect Ryan because he wouldn't be able to volunteer for him. At least Samantha had Brittany and Brittany had Samantha, but Ryan would just have Ryan. All that Roderick knew about next year that he was sure about was that he would stop any one of his younger siblings from getting any tesserae and having their name be put into the bowl one extra time. He wouldn't forgive himself if he knew that one of them would be going into the Games just because they had greater odds that he could have prevented. Sometimes he really hated his protectiveness over his siblings, but he knew it was for the best.

"Please extend your arm and relax," a Peacekeeper ordered. Roderick obeyed and stuck out his arm. Once he felt the prick, he winced only slightly. His blood was collected and he was cleared to walk into the boys crowd. He gave one last look to Ryan.

"See you soon Ryan," Roderick said.

"Wait, Roderick. Do you ever get a gut feeling about something? Like something bad is going to happen," Ryan asked.

"Quite often yes," Roderick replied.

"I have that."

Roderick looked at his younger brother. He carefully planned out his words in his head,"Don't worry. If anything bad happens, I'll swoop in and help you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, now head to your section, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can go home."

The two brothers took their places, one in the eighteens year-old section, the other in the fifteen year old section.

* * *

Euphoria was standing with her fellow sixteen year-old girls with a blank expression on her face. All she wanted right now was to go home, change out of this itchy dress, and go into the woods, _her_ woods. There she could explore and create whatever she wanted. There was something mysterious about the woods that made her happy and even friendly, two things she never was unless she consented them to be felt.

Right now she was only allowing herself to feel blank.

Her hazel eyes travel upwards to the woman in the sparkly silver dress that, with the slightest movement, makes her looks like one of the stars Euphoria always enjoyed seeing in the night sky whenever she'd be in the woods. Now she suddenly likes the stars less. Whoever thought an entire dress of crystal was a good idea was clearly blind.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor! I am looking out at all you and I am just _overwhelmed_ at the amount of potential before me. Whoever shall be chosen will well represent District Three. Let's discover who these lucky tributes are, shall we?" Mrs. Sparkles waltzes over to the bowl over halfway full with the names of every girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Her gentle hand with white nail polish dips into the bowl like a ladle. She scoops out a few slips before plucking all out but one. She swiftly opens the last slip, clears her throat in a somehow lady-like manner, and reads,"Euphoria Kree!"

Euphoria could almost physically see her death reenacted before her as soon as her name is called out. Shaking her head in disgust at the conjured up image, she sticks her head up in her usual way and walks with confidence onto the stage. She will not appear weak, she decides. Hopefully she is able to convince everyone in the Capital and her fellow tributes that she's a challenge even with her slim body.

She was able to convince all but one person in the audience that she was fearless of these Games, and that was herself.

Roderick didn't notice this however and just kept staring as she walked up onstage and stood next to Mrs. Sparkles. The woman's smile seemed to fall as she realized just how little of a chance the slim girl may have. Maybe that's why she was in such a hurry to move on to the boys.

She repeated what she had done for the girls and called out in a voice that didn't waver,"Ryan O'Neill!"

Thoughts raced through Roderick's head. His brother was a book nerd that could barely even carry his younger sister. There was no way he would be able last a day in whatever arena they had chosen. Sure his brother was smart, Roderick was too, but they both knew that Ryan wouldn't come out of that arena alive. So he did what seemed to be the only logical solution.

"I volunteer!"

Red. That's what Roderick was seeing now. Red, red, and more red. The red for his blood he would shed. The red for the blood of his other tributes. The red for the fear that lodged itself into his heart like a disease he couldn't vaccinate.

As he stood on that stage, he refused to look at anyone but the open air before him for he knew that if he looked around, he'd find one of his family members and crack, and that was something that sponsors wouldn't find alluring. If he were to get out of this, he was going to start using his big brain more, no exceptions allowed.

"What might your name be then?" Mrs. Sparkles asked.

"Roderick O'Neill."

"How nice of you to volunteer for your brother, that's what true loyalty is. Let's have a big hand for our two _daring_ tributes!"

Both tributes on the stage couldn't believe their terrible fates. Both dreams they had were crushed by a piece of paper in a glass bowl. A stupid white sheet of paper with black words was something so innocent and harmless but it was capable of something terrible. It was capable of a death sentence which Euphoria and Roderick were chosen for. Blackness was all either could think about. With no words, how could their minds process anything?

* * *

**I'm just going to state the obvious here. Most of you guys thought I was being rude last chapter in my Author's Note. Fair enough, I never said I was the nicest person around, but that wasn't my intention. My point is, is that everyone is similar is personality except for minor details. I know I said I wouldn't tweak much on purpose, but maybe the creators are noticing that I've started to stray a bit from their personality and focusing on the little insignificant details thrown in. I love every tribute submitted because it warms my heart to know that you guys actually took the time of day to contemplate an original character, type it up, and deal with me being either a super speedy or not quick enough responder. So please don't think I hate your tribute, because I love them all. I'll only hate them if you either tell me to or you give me a reason to, and so far, I've had neither happen to me.**

** Think of this scenario in a different way: everyone is a chocolate sprinkle who is roughly 17, smart, and good with plants. Fair enough, I have wiggle room with that, but after a while I get more tributes like that and it's just like: "ugh, more chocolate sprinkles?" So here's what I'm doing, which I'm cool if you don't like this, but I'm slightly manipulating these "sprinkles". By focusing on the details in their persona that other tributes don't have, we are going from a chocolate sprinkle to a red/orange/yellow/green/blue/****purple/whatever color sprinkle. Therefore, each sprinkle is technically the same except for in color. Does this make sense? Feel free to complain to me if you hate this with your life. I'm just trying to add variety without killing the entire original character itself, because it's your character not mine. (Just so we are all clear: I'm _not_ hating anyone's character! I think they're all original, it's just I don't like repetitiveness so that's my only true irritation)**

** I will say though, I am genuinely sorry if I offended you with my Author's Note and slight venting last chapter. I'm just getting frustrated with my inability to write anything, my inability to post anything, and my inability to actually enjoy myself; and it's becoming apparent. My life is just becoming screwed up so I can get ticked off kind of easily. Y'all probably don't care about that so I'll leave that topic there. Just know that I read every review/PM and whenever someone says they were offended by me or they don't like my work, I feel actual guilt or sadness and it's not a good feeling. So let me say it again: I'm sorry. I have no right to lash out at your characters. You guys put some serious time, thought, and creativity into them and I'm just seeing the repetitiveness, and that's not what a good author should do. I'm sorry. I'll try not to let it happen again. And, if it does, feel free to lash out at me. I'll just have to learn to deal with the hate and fix our problems.**

** Salus populi suprema lex esto**  
** ("the welfare of the people is to be the highest law")**


	6. District Four Reaping

_Of all the Career Districts, District Four is the one known for having the most relaxed Career tributes. They're Career tributes but they're not outlandish. Could their relaxation come from the seas that fill this District? Research in other Districts claim so and there seems to be no other logical solution. That could also explain why people aren't always itching to volunteer. That's not to say people don't volunteer because some do, it is just if one is reaped, they're not guaranteed to have a volunteer._

Laida Otup sits along one of the many shorelines in District Four. Her long dirty blonde flaps in the wind as she sits there, eyes close, breathing even. She always liked sitting by the shoreline, and the way the water would sometimes lick her feet with each tidal wave. The water was always cold at first but after a while her feet would grow accustom to it. Whenever she was irritated, angered, frustrated, or depressed, she would come to the same shoreline, sit on the sand, and close her eyes. The waves beneath her would always have the power to cleanse her free of such thoughts and feelings.

Today she is filled with stress, so she came to her ocean and took her usual seat. She always did this every year on the same day that you either loved or hated. For her, she was indifferent. She didn't straight up hate the Games, but she didn't love it either. If she were to go into the Games, she believes she could go far in them with her allies. She's experienced in healing with her father being the District's top doctor. Everything she knows is from him and she doesn't regret a moment of going to work with him when she was a little girl.

Laida sighs as she realizes that eventually she needs to get up and head to the Reaping or else a militia of Peacekeepers would be after her for not having a valid excuse for not showing up. Brushing off any sand on her legs and backside, her mind began to wonder. She wondered if today would be the day where it all spiraled down and she would be reaped. She was hoping she wouldn't be Reaped, but if she were she would man up and deal with it like the mature seventeen year-old she was.

As she was walking back to her house, she notices her brother, Dalton, sitting against a building reading one of his beloved history books probably about North America. There weren't that many books left in Panem with any mentions of North America, but somehow her brother was able to get his hands on one. Actually, he had quite the collection. He reread each book to unhealthy extents but still refused to become bored by them. Instead, he was a genius on the topics. It was because of this obsession that deemed Dalton the social outcast of District Four. He was insistent that books were better than friends because books can't hurt you. To try and get him to be more social, Laida would take a book and start playfully whacking him saying that books can indeed hurt you. He would just glare at her, snatch his book out of her hand, and walk away.

"Hey Dalton, what are you doing there?" Laida asked. She already knew that he was reading, but, being the good sister she was, she still asked him.

"I'm reading about this place called New York. It sounds like such a lovely place, Laida. There was something called Broadway where people would go onstage and act out stories and sing and dance and it just sounds phenomenal! There was also a giant green statue of a woman there who stands holding a golden torch and a book. Here's a picture. Take a look Laida," Dalton rambled.

Wanting to please her brother, she sat down next to him and looked inside the old book. On the page was an entirely green woman which did look magnificent and made Laida want to go back in time to visit it herself. She smiled at bit at the picture before looking back at her brother.

"It's beautiful Dalton. How long have you been out here?" Laida asked.

"Not too long. Father said to go outside, get some fresh air, and make some friends. He didn't see me smuggle my book out though," he smirked to himself with pride.

"What do you say to going inside and getting ready for the day before us?"

"I'd say that I would be more than happy to get out of the sun."

* * *

Danail Vona, the boy of the sea. A boy with muscles as strong as the waves that swept you off your feet when standing in the ocean. Eyes as deep as the oceans surrounding his District. A smile as soft as the sand beneath your bare feet. Everything about Danial "Danny" Vona screamed District Four and Career tribute. Especially if one were to watch him right now.

"Hey Danny, bet ya I could run to the ocean faster than you!" Neffari, Danail's best friend, challenged.

"Is that so?" Danail shot back.

"One-freaking-hundred percent," Neffari gave his friend a wicked smile.

"Are you willing to put that theory into action?"

"If you're willing to lose, then yes I am."

"Okay little man, let's see you try." Neffari glared at Danail. He was only two inches shorter than his friend, but that didn't mean he was slower. Now Neffari was even more determined to beat his friend. Tucking his long blonde hair out of his face, Neffari went to go stand near what their starting line would be: the edge of a building.

"On the count of three?" Danail asked. Neffari nodded his head.

"One..." Danail started off.

"Two..." Neffari added.

"_Three!_" they shouted in unison. The two boys took off. Both were equal in strength and speed, but with a little push, one could defeat the other. Turning around corners, buildings, and crates, the two were sprinting as fast as they could to the ocean. The blue was so close and the two were neck and neck. _Just a little more_, Danail encouraged himself. The two were running on sand now which slowed them down, but not enough to stop running. Danail sprinted into the water and smiled to himself. He had won!

His prize wasn't bragging rights though. His prize was being shoved into the ocean by Neffari. Both collapsed into the ocean, laughing. Sand now filled their shoes, water in their clothes, seaweed in their hair. They both looked like a hot mess and they couldn't help but laugh. Even at seventeen, they couldn't help showing some immaturity every once and a while.

"Aw man, I'm going to miss this when you're gone," Neffari commented after their laughter has ceased.

"Why would I leave?" Danail asked pretending not to realize that he knew what Neffari was talking about.

"Don't screw with me Danny. We all know you're going to volunteer this year. Why else would you go all psycho-training this year? C'mon Danny, I may not be smart, but I'm not dumb either. You aren't exactly good at hiding your passions," Neffari replied,"Still can't believe you're going into those fucking Games. That's crazy, Danny."

"I know it is, but I have to support my family! If I win, do you realize how much better off we'd be? Maybe then I won't be a disgrace to them," Danail trailed off.

"And if you don't make it out? What happens then? You're family struggles to get by even more?"

"Then you'll be out there to help them. Don't make up shit, Nef. You would do the same thing. Heck, you _are_ doing the same thing when you're eighteen. That's next year buddy! Both of us can't be in the arena at the same time. This is my time. Yours is next year. So don't give me this shit."

"Well then at least take this." It was a leather bracelet. "Who knows if I'll even get to say goodbye."

"I'm not gone yet."

* * *

Laida wondered if she would happen to run in to either of her parents before the Reaping. Her mother was a wedding planner and was currently at the Capital planning some big wedding. She was suppose to be back today for the Reaping in case one of her children were Reaped, but, big surprise, she wasn't here. And her father, as strict as he may be, was loving and considerate. He always came to the Reapings in case Laida or Dalton got Reaped, but today Laida couldn't find him. She assumed he was stuck at work helping someone out like he always was. He took his work seriously, but family was always his top priority. Today it must have been bumped down to second priority.

She pushes away the thoughts of her parents and wraps a protective arm around her slightly shorter brother. He's safe, he's here, and that's all Laida needs. But today, right now, she can't protect him. She managed last year, so she'll manage this year. She puts on her brave face before parting with Dalton, promising to catch up with him after the Reaping.

"May I have your arm Miss?" a masculine voice asks her.

"Sure," she sticks out her arm and visibly winces as pain shoots through her arm for a split second.

"Next!"

Laida hurries away and goes to the other seventeen year-old girls in District Four. She looks around her and watches as Dalton takes his place in the thirteen year-old boys section. She feels a tap on her shoulder and turns to look at who it may be. It's a girl Laida has never seen nor talked to before, but she shakes her head at Laida before using her slim finger to point at the stage.

"What?" Laida hisses.

'It's starting you idiot!" the girl whispers back. That's when it clicks to Laida where she was pointing. She sheepishly ducks her head and looks up at the stage after a moment of sulking.

"Welcome, welcome to the District Four Reaping for the 34th Annual Hunger Games! I hope you all are as excited as I am!" A short, pudgy man in a shiny blue suit with green accents speckled around is the District escort this year. His white hair is curled and placed in awkward directions atop his head. Not to mention his lips are a shade of blue that matches his outfit rater perfectly.

The video starts playing in the back ground. Laida couldn't even hear the beginning of "_Years ago, in a land once called North America..." _because she was too distracted by the Man in the Blue Suit. She begins to wonder if he purposely dressed like that to look like the ocean or if he dressed like that just because it's the newest Capital trend, or so she assumed. They always had weird trends regarding fashion in the Capital. She never quite understood it, but if that's what they liked, that's what they liked and she couldn't do anything about it.

"Laida Otup? Where are you?" the Man in the Blue Suit asked, dramatically looking high and low for her. Laida hadn't even registered that her name was being called on stage until she was given a shove by the girl next to her. Laida realized she had to go on stage now or else she'd be carried up there by one of the Peacekeepers that heavily guarded each District.

"Ah here you! Took you long enough Miss Ladle Atup," the Man in the Blue Suit smiled warmly at her.

"It's, uh, Laida Otup,' she corrected.

'That's what I said. Moving on! Boys, I hope you're all paying attention!"

Danail was definitely paying attention. If he wasn't, he'd miss his opportunity to volunteer. The boys in District Four were always more excited to volunteer than the girls were. Why it was that way, no one really knew, but it was what it was.

Danail eagerly looked at the bowl that the Man in the Blue Suit was messing with. His green gloved hand eventually retreated from the bowl holding a white slip that was very easy to see against his green hands. Opening it and scrunching up his face slightly, the Man in the Blue Suit began to read the male tribute's name.

"Aquis Bestiis!"

Before the poor twelve year-old could even make a move to go to the stage next to Laida, Danail called out in his deep voice,"I volunteer!"

He walked with confidence and only slight terror to the elevated flooring where Laida and the Man in the Blue Suit stood. A sense of accomplishment filled his chest as he realized that he was able to volunteer before anyone else could say different. A smirk grew over his lips. Oh yes, Danail was ready for these Games, and he was ready to take on the enemies, defy the Capital, win the Games, and make his family proud.

When he was on the stage, he was asked what his name was and in a strong voice responded with,"Danail Vona."

"Excellent! Let's give our hands to these two tributes!" the Man in the Blue Suit started laughing with glee which was a bit creepy to the audience but they clapped anyways.

At that moment, Laida realized that she became victim to her beautiful sea. The strong waves that would calm her turned into a hurricane and pulled her into the storm. Would she ever she the eye of the storm? Or would she forever be lost at sea? Danail on the other hand was realizing that he was the wave, the storm. He would be the one to knock the Capital off of their feet like the waves. He would take them underwater and drown their stupid Games. Once he won, he would do this.

The Capital wasn't ready for the storm to come. The storm called the 34th Hunger Games.

* * *

**And here's the last of the Career tributes! Despite, my "slight" complaints about similarities early on, I must say that the submitters for them did give me a lot of wiggle room. And it's just occurring to me now just how different they all, so thank you Career-submitters!  
**

**So I have only a few minutes to type an Author's Note out, so I'm going to keep it brief and only say one last thing: I'm updating each Reaping one at a time instead of a spam not because I'm afraid of criticism but because I feel like people read my chapters if I don't upload 20 at once and it gives people time to actually review and such. There was some controversy over that recently, so I just want to clarify that. I'm 100% open to criticism, it's just not many of you are so I just go with it.**

**Okay so I'm going to end that there. I'll be writing some mro over the weekend so expect another update soon!**

**De duobus malis, minus est semper eligendum ("Of two evils, the lesser one is always to be chosen")**


	7. District Five Reaping

_District Five, the District of Power. They are in close relations to District Three, the District of Technology. When one travels on a train into District Five, they would be greeted with tall buildings surrounding the District. This would be a loop of small power plants, the head of them all being inside the Justice Building in the center of the District itself. Occasionally white and blue sparks would dance along the wiring that would line the outside of these buildings. That would always be the cue that the District was alive and in working order. The people in this District would always be proud of how efficient the District is and how they were once the most highly praised because they power the entire country of Panem. Of all the Districts in all of Panem, they are probably the most arrogant, even more so than the Career Districts. But with gold wires around the power plants, it was as if they were trying to seem nicer than they really were._

A blue electric shock zaps a thin, pale hand. Silver specks in indigo eyes seem to illuminate with slight joy at the sight. Stella Hansen can't help but reveal a small smile on her lips. She rubs her feet against the soft carpet beneath her toes for a moment before reaching out and grabbing the metal door handle again. For a split second, a blue electric shock is shown before disappearing. There was something about electricity that intrigued Stella. The way it held power to do most anything. Power to create, destroy, alter. Power to enhance, caress, be manipulated.

Stella always saw herself as the conductor of electricity. She could easily take in electricity and use it to her benefit. With power in her hands, she could destroy, salvage, create, twist. Although it proved no physical power, it proved mental power, and sometimes mental power is better than physical. One doesn't always need to rely on their muscles in their body to accomplish something. Sometimes you can do just as good with your mind.

Her peers around her didn't quite get this message though. They saw the glorious power their District harnessed as something secondary while Stella saw it as something primary. She could do so much once she became nineteen and was eligible to work in the power plants that consumed her District. _Only five more years_, she would tell herself. Until then, she was stuck in school going about her days with ease. School wasn't a hard thing to Stella, but her parents refused to let her drop out at such a young age. So, determined to prove them wrong and that she indeed was good enough without it, she pushed herself to the maximum and did nothing short of perfect in school.

"Are you touching door knobs _again_?" Her older brother, Spark, spoke. His surprise appearance didn't surprise Stella one bit. He was known around the District for being elusive, coming out of nowhere and scaring you. But Stella was metal and couldn't be cracked easily.

"C'mon, I know you can hear me Stell." And here comes the obnoxious nickname again. Stella let it go though. She knew that if she just kept silent, her brother would go along his merry way as usual. Some people were just so predictable, Spark being one of them. But this was her brother, one of the only people in her life to show her kindness, generosity. Sure she enjoyed a life of solitude, but the rare socializing was a form of comfort. Succumbing to her innermost thoughts, she decided she wouldn't ignore him. Not today at least.

"Of course I can, I'm not deaf," Stella retorted in her nicest tone possible.

"And she speaks," Spark noted. Stella could practically hear his smirk of pride. She just kept facing the door. They may be in conversation, but eye contact was not required.

"Of course I speak, I have vocal cords don't I?" Stella remarked. She wasn't one for joking, but rather seriousness. If someone let their mind wonder off of the track they were on, trouble would be inevitable.

"Ya know, I always seem to forget how much of a smartass you are. Maybe you should try socializing and actually interacting with humans so that I don't get this little surprise attitude from you every time I try to talk to you," Spark frowned at his little sister's back. She could really be the most annoying, stubborn person in the world. Why was it again that he loved her?

"If I interacted with others they would just find me superior to them and leave because they want to be superior themselves."

"My friends like you plenty. How 'bout this, after the Reaping, you and I can go meet up with just a small group of people and do something fun?"

This caused Stella to turn around, no out of shock though. Her brother was always was inviting her to outings with his friends to try and get her to talk more. She replied with a bland,"You don't need to sugarcoat the truth to spare my feelings Spark. I know your friends don't like me, truth is no one does. Just accept the fact."

Spark's forehead creased in thought,"Why don't you give them a chance? They've given you plenty."

"People can hurt you Spark. The sooner you discover that out, the safer you'll be. Work can't hurt you. Work can't leave you. Why don't you give that a chance? It's given _you _plenty." Stella said in response.

"I'll give it a chance when you give talking to the outside world a chance."

"That won't happen."

"Then there's your answer."

Stella scowled at her brother's retreating form. He always seemed to corner her and twist her words. How he did that, she didn't know. Brotherly instinct? Natural reactions? Once Spark was out of view, she fixed her dirty blonde hair that was slightly sticking up because of the amount of electrons her body had collected from the door. Looking back at the old, crooked door knob, she sighed. This was her life and there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe metal could melt under pressure. But she wasn't about to give in to her brother's suggestions just yet, she'd hold on to her beliefs for as long as she could.

* * *

Ares was a pyramid. He was built up over time by the people around him rather than being developed by himself. Each compliment, each insult, each remark became a brick in his pyramid of a body. The expression "your body is like a temple" is more truth than an expression for Ares Shyne. It only became an expression when he was training. His parents had both dreamed of being in District One someday but ever since the District got an increase in the number of Peacekeepers, travel had been prohibited. So what does a couple do with the thirst to win and gain glory? They live their lives through their children.

With two chances of winning with two strong boys, they were confident that they could get twice the glory. Their eldest son, Dexter, was eighteen and the best the District had to offer. Today, he was going to volunteer and in a few years, Ares would follow. So, until that day, the two brothers had been training day and night for the moment of their glory. Both were strong in build, but not tall in height. Ares was only 5'4", but the muscles the fourteen year-old had made up for he lack of a few inches of the complete intimidation factory.

"Harder Ares! Harder!"

Currently Ares was working out like he did every morning. Today he was greeted with a few punches to a big black bag dangling from the ceiling. With each hit, he let out the irritation that he felt towards his father. He didn't need to be told with every punch that he was a weakling and couldn't make it into the Games. That had been his goal his entire life, and he wasn't about to let it go.

"Come on Ares! You call _that_ a punch? Put some muscle into it!"

Sweat was dripping down his wavy golden hair. At this point though, it could almost be considered brown because of the perspiration that coated it like a blanket. For a split second, he considers stopping to wipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead, but he knew that that would just result in backlash from his father, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. His father would follow the insult with something along the lines of,"Dexter could do better than you!" That statement alone was enough to get Ares' blood boiling. Being compared to his Greek god of a brother, Dexter, was the most annoying thing in the entire universe. Ares was just another pyramid while Dexter was the Great Pyramid of Giza. Oh how Ares yearned for the day the roles would change. He knew that his wouldn't come true without a little initiative, so today he was going to volunteer and win the Games. Sure this was Dexter's last year to volunteer, so what? Dexter always had his parent's favor over Ares. Maybe by winning Ares could get the glory Dexter already had.

"Knock it son! Knock it!"

Ares sent one final blow to the bag before he felt a towel being thrown in his face. His father shook his head in slight disapproval,"You're getting there Ares, we just need to work on it some more. Maybe by the time you're eighteen you'll be able to look like actual competition."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I look more intimidating than the other fourteen year-olds in District Five. I can easily take on anyone who dares to come in my way," Ares stood up for himself. That always seemed to be the case. His father would criticize him then Ares would defend himself.

"I'm not saying you aren't Ares, but you need to keep training before you even think about stepping foot into those Games."

"You have no faith in me. When I volunteer, I'll make those Games one heck of a show! I'll win and we'll be famous. What could be better than that? Your son winning and you getting glory as my trainer?" Ares said, slight anger seeping into his voice.

"It will be even greater when Dexter wins too. Twice the glory, twice the fame, twice the wonder. People will come crawling me to train their children and then we will finally live in the Career Districts where people like us belong."

Although he knew his father had implied that Ares could win as well, he didn't like how his father skimmed over his potential. Ares could be just as amazing as Dexter! And this year, he'd prove it. No longer will it be "Dexter this" or "Dexter that", but rather it will be "Ares this" and "Ares that". His parents would finally accept him, his brother would finally approve of him, and they could all live together in the Victor's Village and be amongst the other two Victors in the village. This was going to be the year, and Ares could feel that deep in his gut.

But he could also feel the sweat dripping down his body. He started rubbing the towel around his body, drying it off from his sweat. At this point, his father had exited from their training room and went back upstairs, probably to go check on Dexter. Ares shook his head at the staircase his father went up. He couldn't wait until after these Reapings.

But for now, he'd shower. Sweat wasn't going to be impressive once he was on that stage in front of all the sponsors.

* * *

Standing in the sun amongst her fellow fourteen year-olds, Stella was getting slightly irritated. She could see the stares the people around her were giving her. She wasn't blind. Still, she held her head high and just stared hard at the stone stage in front of the crowd of people around her. She heard a few hurried footsteps coming from around her as the late showers decided that they should probably arrive at the Reaping. The latecomers were the reason the nerves were high. The longer the wait, the higher the anticipation. The higher the anticipation, the higher the nerves. It was simple knowledge.

And then the video started going off, cutting to random scenes. It appeared that whoever was projecting the video was having some technical difficulties. Whoever it was, it was most likely those in the Capital who sat behind a computer screen their entire lives to make sure everything went smoothly.

A woman in a bright green dress that went down to her mid-thigh appeared onstage. Her green lips were pursed and she ran her dark hand through her straight brown hair. She nearly knocked off the abstract headpiece of matching green off her head in the process. She turned to the microphone and in a high-pitched voice said,"Pardon the interruption, we seem to be experiencing some minor difficulties with our video."

Just then the mayor tapped her shoulder and made a motion that clearly said,"Proceed anyways."

Green Girl simply nodded her head and turned back to the audience, a nervous smile on her face. She was clearly new to this job. It was evident once she stared speaking,"Y-Yes, uh, let's move on to the tribute portion of the program shall we?"

With a slight pause, as if she was expecting a response, she walked over to the first bowl on her left. It was so quiet in the vicinity of the Justice Building that the only thing heard around Stella was Green Girl's heels clicking on the stone floors. Everyone around her was holding their breaths as she pulled out a slip with her long, and not surprisingly, green fingernails.

Opening the slip, her voice called out,"Stella Hansen!

Metal can't crack with ease, so neither could Stella. Her face remained unfazed as if the woman in all green onstage hadn't even called out a name yet. She simply shrugged, knowing that no one would dare volunteer. Her feet colliding with the ground was all that was heard as she made her way to the stairs and climbed them.

Ares on the other hand could only hear what the Green Girl was saying. Any other sound but her voice was immune to him. He had to volunteer before Dexter even could comprehend that a name had been called out. If he didn't move fast, he would lose his chance, and Ares couldn't let that happen. Not over his dead body.

So when the Green Girl smiled warmly at a stiff Stella Hansen, Ares made two taut fists with his hands. The woman clicked her way to the bowl on her right and began to fish again. Her long, slightly curled, green nails drew out another fish from the sea. Ares was subconsciously biting his lip.

"Herc-"

"I-"

"I volunteer!"

It was as if a frenzy went off. Two people had called out for the volunteer position at the same time, but only one was able to finish their sentence.

Ares had never felt more proud of himself.

When it came to comparing Dexter against Ares, Dexter could easily pulverize Ares in anything, but clearly not in the field of volunteering speed. A giant grin formed over Ares' lips as he power walked onstage. His loud footsteps rang out around him. They were like a safety blanket proving that this was indeed real and he actually had beaten his brother at something.

Once he was onstage and took his place next to the Green Girl, she asked him what his name was. He responded with,"Ares Shyne."

The two tributes shook hands, both having firm grips onto the other. As soon as they made contact, they released each other, trying to prove that they weren't dependent on the other. One was made of metal with a stone heart and a stiff face. The other was a pyramid without erosion, destined to be the tallest once completed. Both stood as straight as poles on that stage, not daring to seem weaker than the other. Which one would last longer would be a mystery, but at some point a metal melts and at another a pyramid erodes. Neither was willing to be first.

But there could only be one Victor.

* * *

**And here is District Five. Can't believe I'm almost halfway done with the Reapings, feels like I just started them. Sorry for the wait for this one, I've been busy with school and life that I haven't had time to write or even consider posting an update until now. We have also gotten to the point where I have run out of chapters I've written ahead on. I'm hoping to write more this weekend and some more over my impending spring break, but we shall see what the future holds.  
**

**Sorry again for the slow updates, things will only go uphill from here on out. My major projects are almost all done with, then I get a break, and soon enough summer will be here where constant updates will happen, or so I plan.**

**As always, please review, they're my inspiration to pull out my laptop and write. Criticism, complements, and suggestions are welcome; tell me your thoughts. I hope to update again soon!**

**Donec eris felix, multos numerabis amicos ("As long as you are successful, you will have many friends")**


	8. District Six Reaping

_Coming from the District of transportation, one would expect their District to be overflowing with trains, automobiles, and planes. But it's with that assumption when they would be wrong. Just like any other District, whatever they create gets shipped off to the Capital, leaving nothing behind except for the faulty ones. The only people who get benefits as well as working transportation items would be anyone with any sort of relation to the mayor of District Six. Aside from that, the District of mobility lacks any other present source of transportation except for by foot.  
_

For Calliope Miles, she gets benefits. As she adjusts her stunning diamond necklace around her neck with her delicate fingers, a wicked smile forms upon her pale pink lips. She fingers the necklace gently, her brown eyes inspecting it in the mirror before her. It's a simple necklace with a simple diamond. A sparkling, circular jewel hangs off of a thin silver chain. When Calliope first got this necklace, it was when her father first started to drift away from her family. To make up for his remarkable amount of absences, he would buy Calliope and her sisters, Dianne, Edna, and Harriet, expensive gifts for any random occasion. Over time, these acts corrupted her mind into thinking that no matter what the scenario, she would get a loophole or a special something to make up for it. This necklace was the first of many gifts she had received.

Calliope had just turned four when she first started seeing her father disappear without a word. Granted, he was the mayor, but a simple hello in the hallways would have been nice. It was a week after her official fourth birthday when he showed up and presented her a wrapped up box no bigger than her small hands. When she first pulled the box out from the pastel purple wrapping paper that encased it, she immediately opened the box in excitement. Inside the velvet case and atop a silk pillow rested a single diamond necklace on a silver chain. It was at that moment when Calliope realized just how much money that necklace cost. She may had only been four, no older than Harriet, but she fully understood the power she withheld in her tiny little fingers. By age six she fully mastered the art of fake crying and had a full array of precious stones and all the toys she wanted in her bedroom. All she had to do was become invisible and then, out of nowhere, throw some big tantrum, roll out a few fat fake tears, and she could get whatever she wanted.

But now, with her corrupted mind, she glares at the suddenly small necklace with disgust. Where did the shine go? Why were her eyes brighter than the precious stone that other residents of District Six would kill for? Grasping the chain with her porcelain fingers, she yanks hard and immediately hears a snap. Looking away from her reflection in the mirror, her gaze goes down to the now broken necklace that dangles between her enclosed fist.

"Cheap clasp. Breaks before I even started seriously pulling," her stiff voice says. She bites her lip as she looks around, trying to see if anyone saw the incident from afar. The coast is as clear as her emotions. Perfect.

"Father!" Calliope calls out in fake pain-stricken, heart-broken voice. She hears heavy footsteps coming from outside and nearing her bedroom door. Before the door opens, she takes a moment to start fake crying. As if on cue, the Mayor of District Six, Ford Miles, steps into the room, a slightly concerned look upon his aging face.

"Calliope? What's wrong?" he asks in a raspy, deep voice.

"Daddy, my necklace broke. I went to put in on when I noticed the clasp was broken. I think Dianne broke it when she was playing with Edna the other day. What do I do? I wanted to wear this to the Reaping and now I can't!" Tears continue to steadily fall down her soft cheeks and onto her lap as she dips her head low.

"Don't worry honey, I'll get you a new necklace, a _better_ necklace. Just stop crying, please."

"O-Okay. Promise?"

"Of course. I'll get you a new one right now."

Once he left her room, Calliope wiped off and stray tears from her cheeks. Staring herself down in the mirror, she smirks. Fake crying always worked, and now she was getting a new necklace and her sisters would be off of her case for at least a week. While reapplying some mascara that was lost to the clear tears that were now dried up, she heard a knock.

"Calliope! Did you tell daddy we broke your necklace?" No question, that was her eleven year-old sister, Dianne. Tossing her straight red hair back over her shoulder, Calliope simply decides to turn as clear as the broken diamond upon her desk. Sometimes invisibility is the best remedy. Of course, crying is too.

But aren't they both clear anyways?

* * *

Carter Ford sat quietly on some still damp grass outside of his house. He looks up at the bright blue sky in wonder. Not a single cloud was in the sky that day and it looked truly beautiful. Had it been any other day, he would've relaxed and just taken it all in, but not today. Today he sits deep in thought, which is not an unusual occurrence for him, but today it is out of wonder and nerves. His name is inside the Reaping bowl about 32 times, so he has some good odds going for him to be chosen. For a split second he is jealous of his younger brother, Denver, because he has less of a chance of being picked than Carter, and really, all Carter wants to do is not be Reaped. But someone has to, and if it's him then he may be screwed. He'd be as screwed as the greasy screw he always carries around with him.

In all honesty, a screw isn't the safest thing to carry around, but he could be carrying much more dangerous things like a handgun or a knife. _If you go into the Hunger Games you won't have a screw to carry around, you would just have whatever you can savage from the Cornucopia_, he thinks to himself, _But maybe I won't be Reaped, maybe I'll be safe another year. How good are my odds anyways? I'm sure there are other people in District Six with even worse odds._

Just then Carter found himself being crushed and rolling down the grass he was once sitting on. A heavy weight was on his back, the heels of someone's shoes digging into his wrist. He grunted out loud, not being afraid to show his pain and his weakness.

"Oh Carter, when will you ever grow some muscles?" Carter knew the voice. It was none other than his best friend Roy Aston.

"You don't grow muscles Roy," he growled, starting to feel pain from the new found weight on him.

"True, but you should work on getting some. It would get the attention of the ladies," Roy responded with a wink.

"That is literally the _last_ thing I'm worrying about today. Now can you please get off of me?"

"Sure thing pal, you just should've said so originally," Roy smirked at his weaker friend. Carter rolled out from underneath Roy and brushed off any stray grass on his clothes and hair. This seemed to be his friendship with Roy nowadays. Roy would always seem to come out of nowhere and physically attack him, make some joke, and then act as if nothing happened. How Carter has had the will to stay with him after all these years has surprised him, but, outside of his family, he is all Carter has.

Carter, after finishing cleaning himself off from any stray grass or dirt, sat down once again. His muscles tensed up slightly and he barely paid attention to Roy sitting down next to him. The two sat in an unusual silence for a few moments, Carter staring off into the distance while Roy tried to decipher his best friend's feelings. It took him a few minutes, but as soon as he reached eureka, he couldn't help but spit it out.

"You're nervous aren't you?" he questioned the smaller boy.

Carter gave Roy a look of slight irritation before saying in a sarcastic tone,"And what makes you think _that_?"

"Don't use that tone with me Carter. C'mon, it's just Reaping Day! The odds of people like us being chosen are almost slim to none. No one hears of the middle class being chosen. Sure we also need tesserae, but not as badly. Seriously, how many times is your name in the jar? Fifteen? Twenty?" said Roy.

"My name is in there about 32 times," Carter replied after a moment of hesitation, "I've lost count at this point."

"Seriously? You're joking with me, you have to be." Roy practically exclaimed, but the look on Carter's face suggested otherwise. He took a deep breath, searching through his mind for the right words to say. Usually, he is good with this, but not right now. His best friend just struck him with his Reaping reality like a giant brick wall. Why he hadn't mentioned this before, he didn't know, but now wasn't the time to ask.

"I'm pretty screwed aren't I Roy?" Carter asked.

"Do you want the sugarcoated reply or the brutally honest reply?"

"Surprise me."

"You're screwed."

"Well aren't you encouraging today?"

* * *

Calliope Miles was wearing a flowing pastel pink dress that went down to her mid-thighs. Around her waist was a sparkling silver belt that matched the straps on the dress. It was one of her _old_ personal favorite dresses. Now, she despised it with her life, but of all the dresses in her closet, it best complimented her new diamond necklace. This one was a huge step up from the one that she broke this morning. Instead of just one diamond, there were several that were connected together as the chain of the necklace. In selected areas, a few diamonds were strung together and hang off of the necklace. It was definitely an improvement from the poor excuse of a diamond necklace from this morning.

Tossing her red hair over her shoulder, Calliope stared straight ahead, a blank expression on her face. If there was anything else she was not too thrilled about besides her dress, it was the fact that she was shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of poor excuses for humans. Their clothes were torn, bland, dirty. These type of people _shouldn't_ touch someone as beautiful as herself.

With a scowl on her face, Calliope turns to the girl next to her who looks utterly terrified at what the future held. She didn't notice her terror though, and said in a venomous voice,"Could you _please_ stand a little farther away? You're practically breathing down my neck!"

The girl, already terrified enough, nodded her head hastily and scooted closer to the girl on her right, giving Calliope more space. Smirking with a sense of pride, Calliope turned her attention to the stage where the Reaping was about to happen.

A woman in a tight black dress with matching black gloves and a gold, puffy jacket over her arms strutted onto stage. Her pale skin seemed to be tinted pink due to the heat of that day. Clearly, the Capitol didn't understand the topic of heat or sweat. She tried to nonchalantly wipe her forehead from the beads of sweat the now adorned her head like a crown, but was unsuccessful. A man in an elegant black suit walked up to her, nudged her arm, and made a motion to move on. She nodded her head and gave an awkward smile to the crowd of teenagers before her.

"Ah, ah yes... We are gathered here today to choose two lucky contenders in this year's annual Hunger Games! I'm sure you all are _very_ excited and are all eager to be Reaped!" The woman adored in black was met with silence. "Moving forward! Let us take a moment to... reflect on our nation's history with a message from the President himself."

The silence continued throughout the video that they saw every year. Calliope rolled her eyes at how undesirable the video was. She could do a better job at creating and editing it the Capitol people. The woman in black strutted her way in her seven inch heels to the girl's Reaping Bowl. "How about ladies first, hmm?"

She reached her gloved hand into the bowl and plucked out the first piece of folded paper she touched. Moving back to the nearby microphone, she announced in her high Capitol voice, "Calliope Miles!"

Calliope freezes at the sound of her name. How could she possibly have been Reaped? This isn't how it's suppose to go! She's suppose to act pretty and live her normal sixteen year-old life. Being thrown into a battle to the death is definitely _not_ on that list! Nonetheless, she forces her head up, tosses her hair over her shoulder, and starts walking to the stage. As she's walking, she bites her lip to stop the tears from falling that are forming in her eyes. The last thing she wants is to appear weak when so many people are watching her. Besides, no one sponsors a girl with running mascara, no matter beautiful she may be.

From the boy's section, Carter Ford stands tall amongst the crowd of his fellow seventeen year-olds in District Six. He recognizes the girl walking onstage, as does everyone else in the crowd. It's Calliope Miles, the bitchy mayor's daughter who is spoiled rotten and is dependent on everyone. She cries to get sympathy from others, she throws a tantrum when she doesn't get her way, and she thinks she owns the world she lives in. The girl is as clear as the diamonds that rest upon her neck.

Carter Ford pities the male tribute she is going to be sent into the Hunger Games with.

He just prays that it's not him.

As soon as Calliope is on stage, the woman in black smiles at the girl, clearly admiring the necklace the redhead wears. She shakes herself slightly out of the trance the necklace held on her and announces, "And now for the boys!"

_Looks like she doesn't want to ask for any volunteers. Perhaps it's because she wants some fashion advice from Calliope._ Carter ponders this for a moment. _Maybe Calliope will bribe her way through the Games just so she can win and start a fashion line of some sort for the Capitol people._ Carter nearly laughs out loud at his inner thoughts. In order for that to happen, she would need to _win_. That would be like saying Carter could win the Games, which is very unlikely.

Carter is pulled from his thoughts as soon as he hears his name being called. Being the quiet thinker that he was, he tends to zone out, such as right now. After inhaling the moment of shock in the air, he tries to slow his heart-rate by digging his nails into the palms of his hands. With each step, he takes a slow, steady breath. As long as he stays calm, he will be okay. For now, at least.

When he arrives onstage, all he can think about is how screwed his fate is. First it was all the times his name was in the bowl, then it was him being Reaped, and now his District partner is the District's least favored person that even he despises.

When the two are told to shake hands, Calliope holds out her hand, but not in the way one would to shake a hand. She held her hand out for hm to grab and kiss like a gentleman would. Carter gave her a strange look, his eyes diverting from her eyes to her hands then back to her eyes.

"You are about to touch the mayor's daughter. This is a great honor you don't get everyday." she whispers to him as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. In response, Carter shakes his head and decides to take the logical route, which is to just not shake her hand.

The two turn back to the audience, slight hatred and immense intensity filling the Reaping Center around them. As they stood there, waiting to be ushered to their rooms to say their Final Goodbyes, all Carter can think is that, although their future is dark, there's one thing crystal clear: they both are screwed.

* * *

**So, after the long awaited District Six Reapings, I have finally completed the chapter! Super sorry for not updating sooner, I've been busy. Also, as a side note, I got a comment saying I don't give good enough reasonings as to why I never update, so here's a reason: My family has been in town and they constantly insist that we do things plus you add high school on top of that and a research paper on top of that... yeah I've been a little busy.**

**Sorry for not posting a new chapter, I wanted to edit this chapter before starting another one. Summer is approaching fast, and that holds plenty of writing opportunities, which I will gladly take advantage of. Until then, updates will be slow as usual. Just bear with me a little longer, these Reapings are halfway over!  
**

**Please keep commenting as well, I haven't been getting that many recently and I do appreciate your opinions on the characters, this story, and my writing. I'm open to support and criticism, so leave whatever you want in my comments.**

**Anyways, that's all I have right now, so I'm going to go now. Hopefully you'll hear from me soon!**

**Dura lex sed lex. ("The law is hard, but it is the law.")**


	9. District Seven Reaping

_Tall trees of all sorts of sizes and shades of green surround District Seven. The trees were strategically placed to make a thick rim around the District's borders so that intruders wouldn't see the residents inside. A new tradition, which had started only a few years back, is visible from the outside. Whenever someone from the District Seven would win the Hunger Games, their name would be carved onto the Victor's Tree that could be visible from their homes in the Victor's Village. As of right now, only two names were on that tree and there was still a lot of room for more names._

Iris Blackwing occasionally sees the tree as she walks through the District's center market. Her crystal blue eyes always look around her in wonder and curiosity, and it is an often occurrence for her to notice the giant Dragon Tree that the District dedicated to their Victors. It's always enthralled her. District Seven, the District that chops down trees, had planted a tree, and a mighty big one at that. The way the trunk shoots up from the ground, the defined layer of branches and leaves, its stellar green color; it all was intriguing. With one final glance at the magnificent tree and a slight bite on her lip, Iris hurries along her way.

Iris runs quickly back to her house, the sound of her feet hitting the gravel pathway the only thing she can hear over her breathing. Her bangs fall in front of her eyes momentarily and she brushes her hand quickly over her face to knock them away. Once she has regained her sight again, she picks up the pace.

She sees her brick house before her and stops and listens in to see if she can depict who is home. She is greeted with birds chirping instead, so she just decides to go inside and see for herself. Iris is greeted with the sight of her father watching their small television with the pre-Reaping news that circulates around the Districts on the screen. He appears to be unamused by the sight, but watches it anyways, probably knowing there will be nothing else on until this year's Hunger Games are over with.

Her mother was in the kitchen cleaning the counter tops with a torn up blue rag that looks to be on the verge of death. Neither one had noticed Iris until she cleared her throat. Iris was met with two sets of blue eyes that were much like her own.

"Iris, you're back. How was the trip my little flower?" Iris's mother set the practically dead rag aside, dried her hands, and walked over to her daughter. She cupped Iris's face between her wrinkling hands and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Did you find what you wanted?"

Iris suddenly remembered the old, tattered bag in her hand and walked towards a kitchen counter. She began pulling out a loaf of bread, an orange, and a small wedge of chocolate wrapped in plastic.

"The baker had some extra scraps when I passed him and he offered them to me. I initially denied it but he insisted I take it, and I didn't want to disappoint him. So now we have chocolate, bread, and fruit," Iris explained.

Delighted with her daughter's findings, Iris's mother gleefully said,"Lovely! We'll eat good tonight!"

"But did you find what you went into the market for?" her father interrupted. To answer his question, she pulled out some wire and placed it on the table.

"More wire? Iris, you don't need all that wire," complained her mother.

"I wouldn't want it if I didn't need it," responded Iris. Her parents just shook their heads at their daughter's response.

Not wanting to deal with her parents, Iris went into the room she called her own. It wasn't a very big room; it barely fit her bed, a small dresser, and a tiny mirror, but she dealt with it. She digs a small box out from underneath her bed and places it atop the mattress. Removing the lid, she digs out a half ring of wire and a small diamond her father found within a tree. The diamond had been hidden away in what her father described as a secret compartment. The diamond was an iris color. By chance or coincidence that it shared the same name as herself, she wasn't sure. She had been named after the flower her mother loved so dearly that she would occasionally see in the forests of Seven.

Wrapping some wire around the diamond, Iris ties a few knots and carefully weaves the wire around the precious stone. When it's secure, she adds it to the half wire ring she already has and connects the two into one. After a few attempts and a poke here and there, the diamond was snug amongst the wire. She had seen a few Capitolites on the television a week or so ago wearing bracelets of various shades of gold and silver with diamonds on them. And now she had her own authentic District Seven one. With the iris jewel in the middle surrounded by the silver wire, she couldn't help but think of her home.

The iris caught some light from the window nearby and projected its iris color on a wall.

* * *

_Whoosh! _The motion of air being cut by an axe is heard. _Crack!_ Goes the wood. Another _whoosh_ is followed by a splintering _crack!_ _Whoosh! Crack! Whoosh! Crack! _And, with a strike of surprise, a loud _crash!_ is heard as a tree falls on top of the grass it was once rooted to, only its stump remaining.

Clay Woodchuck wipes away the beads of sweat that adorn his forehead like a crown. A smirk forms on his tan skin, his brown eyes twinkling with glee. He runs his hand through his straight black hair, forcing it off of his forehead. A sense of accomplishment swells inside his chest as he looks at the tree that now lays on the ground. As an eighteen year-old, being able to cut down a tree would seem impossible for an apprentice such as he. But, being the workaholic he is and his constant strive to be the best, he prepared his body for this task.

"'Ey Clay! Go home kid, youse got a Reapin' tah attend!" Clay heard his cocky-voiced boss call out to him.

A wicked grin formed upon his face as he called back,"What about the tree? Should I just leave it here to decompose?"

"Leave it tah the big guys," was his response.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm the strongest one here."

"Ya sure about that ya big fellah?"

His boss burst into laughter, so Clay followed suit, not wanting to seem hurt by his comment. After a few forceful laughs, he stalked off to his house, leaving his axe on the tree stump for the "big guys" to deal with. _One day they'll appreciate my work. When I'm rich and famous, they will all regret having downgrading me,_ Clay thought irritably.

The walk home for Clay was uneventful. He could still hear the splintering of wood ringing in his ears and the sounds of trees falling around him. Ever since he was little, his father, Oak Woodchuck, would take him to the forests and show him how to chop down trees and how to properly handle and axe. Ever since his first visit as a little four year-old, Clay has taken an interest in trees. He often thought of himself as a tree, and not just because of his height. When a tree grows a certain height, everyone in the District marvels at it. If Clay could grow tall like a tree and make a name for himself, he would be marveled at. Perhaps that is why he has been training for the Games since he was a little kid. Miracles don't happen overnight, trees don't grow seventy feet in a day, and Victors aren't born in an instant.

Arriving back at his house, Clay walks through the front door and immediately takes off his shoes. He can hear his mother, Cassandra Woodchuck, bustling about in the kitchen making a quick meal for her three children before the Reaping. Maple and Lizzie, his two younger sisters, were probably in their room getting ready for later. If there was one thing those two did together, it was getting dolled up for certain events.

"Clay? Is that you dear?" his mother called out from the kitchen.

"No mother it's just a burglar coming to steal the television," Clay sarcastically called back.

"Do not use that tone with me, Clay, I am your mother and I expect respect from you." His mother suddenly came out of the kitchen with five plates on her arms. Placing them down at the small table, she continued,"Now go get your sisters. They can't spend all day getting dolled up for such a horrible event."

"Why do I have to do it? Why can't father do it?" Clay questioned.

"Because I am your mother and I said so. Superiority. Now do as I ask," she responded.

Grumbling, he turned on his heel and muttered,"Fine."

Heading up to his sister's room, he couldn't help but think that today he would plant the seed and become the tree he was meant to be.

* * *

Iris stuck out her arm for the Peacekeeper so that she could have her blood drawn. After four consecutive years of Reapings, the fifth year was all reflexes. Stick your arm out here, stand here, do this, do that, don't make a big deal, don't show off yourself, and more. That's why when she took her spot with some other seventeen year-old girls in District Seven she wasn't surprised to see everyone looking straight ahead at the stage. Two giant glass bowls were almost filled to the brim with folded slips of paper. Either people were training and wanted to be Reaped or people were getting poorer. Maybe it was a mixture of the two.

A woman in forest green showed up onstage and smiled to the crowd. As soon as she smiled, everyone noticed that her teeth were green as well. _The Capital finds this appealing to the eye and attractive? It looks like her teeth are growing mold,_ Iris thought in disgust. She always found the Capital designs unattractive, except for maybe the bracelet she had tried to replicate earlier, but this was just crossing the line.

"Welcome everyone to the District Seven Reaping for the 34th Annual Hunger Games! I hope you all are excited and eager to get this started!" Pause. "But first, a word from our President, Coriolanus Snow!" Green Tooth ushered everyone's eyes to look at one of the two monitors open to watching. The same video as last year played. It started with a black screen then flashed to some poor folk from what looked like District Nine. And that's when the voice started speaking.

Iris never found the video amusing. Maybe it was intriguing and factual at her first Reaping, but it was getting to the point where she could quote it. The only thing that changed every year was the actual footage. The voice and the Presidential message was the same every year. It was clearly very scripted and not at all sentimental.

When the film finally ended, Iris almost wanted to smile. Instead, she twisted her new bracelet around her wrist and awaited fate to take hold of two people in the crowd. Little did she know that her world was about to be changed.

"Wasn't that great! Now onto the Reaping portion of today's program. As we do always, ladies shall be first," Green Tooth smiled once again and Iris cringed at the green teeth that were flashed at the audience again.

"Iris Blackwing! Ooh, that's a very colorful name," Green Tooth commented.

Iris felt herself start to wilt. She was Reaped? Was this what fate wanted? Knowing that standing there wouldn't change the events, Iris stepped out of line and started to walked to the stage.

_Well at least Lizzie and Maple weren't Reaped_, Clay thought to himself. But would he be able to think that next year? He only hoped so.

A voice cut through his mind like an axe and caught his attention,"Forrest Silvae!"

_That girl is already on the stage?_ Clay wondered. Just then he realized, _T__hey just Reaped the male tribute._ And so, remembering his plan, Clay called out in his deep voice,"I volunteer!"

Clay shoved his way out of the crowd and began to power walk up to the stage, refusing to seem weak. He wanted to seem like a Career, and not even this pansy of a female tribute he was Reaped with would stop him from obtaining his goal.

"And what's your name?" Green Tooth asked as soon as Clay stepped on the stage.

"My name is Clay Woodchuck, and I'm going to win." he stated confidentially.

The two were so different. A tree and a flower. Bark and petals. Mud and a color. Could either of these two polar opposites really win the Hunger Games?

* * *

**And there it is! The District Seven Reapings have happened. I apologize for this being terribly late. I am on summer, and I have been for about two weeks now, but there were some computer issues on my part which included a virus and no protection. But that is fixed now and writing should be smoother. Again, sorry for not updating in over a month, that was not my intention. **

**Anyways, please tell me your thoughts on this! Reviews are a great way to inspire an author and I always love them. Plus, I haven't been receiving that many reviews lately and I don't' know if that's a good or bad thing. It could really go either way.**

**I hope to post more soon and finally get these Reapings over with, because they're starting to become bland and repetitive. Feel free to comment or PM me some suggestions and I'll get back to you whenever I can.**

**Fortes fortuna iuvant. ("Fortune favors the brave.")**


	10. District Eight Reaping

_District Eight, the District of textiles, could be described easily in one word: hell. The District itself was conveniently placed in an area where the climate was constantly cloudy and dry. Whether the clouds were actual water or pollution, no one really knew. Being the District of textiles, they had a multitude of factories that had all sorts of machines alongside their workers that were constantly in use. The pollution that ran from the factory floated up to the sky and stayed there, the lack of wind keeping in there, therefore killing all the plants and wildlife within the District. The living conditions were less than ideal, but the factories provided good money, and money meant survival, so the residents didn't bother to leave. Like anything, there was a price to pay, and that was the weakness they all acquired._

Golden blonde hair was stroked underneath the bristles of a simple brown hairbrush. Keri Ray admired herself in the mirror for a moment, putting the brush down. She took note of the way her hair flowed down in gentle waves of gold and the twinkle in her green eyes that always seemed to be there. Keri wasn't a rich girl, she was far from it, but she was a lucky girl. Maybe the green of her eyes reflected the luck she felt on the inside. After all, she did have many blessings for her simple life. She had a healthy and loving family even though she was just an only child, she had a reliable, trustworthy best friend and wing-woman, Caroline, and, most importantly, she had her amazing boyfriend, Joe. Indeed, she had a lot to be grateful for.

Taking one last look at her reflection in the mirror, she wondered why she looked as pretty as she did for a poor girl. Keri suddenly shook her head, refusing to even internally sound self-centered. But Keri wasn't blind, no one was. Her good looks was one of the reasons why Caroline and her were as popular as they were. Personality had nothing to do with it, neither did whatever money and clothes she had, it was all about her frame, her figure. Guys always looked at her and offered to help her out however they could in order to get her attention and affection, but she would always brush them off, not wanting charity.

She stepped away from her makeshift vanity and walked downstairs where she was greeted by a kiss on the cheek from her boyfriend, Joe. Joe had been through a lot for his young age. His mother died from an unknown illness about three years ago, leaving him in the care of his father for a short amount of time. About two years later though, only a few months in to his relationship with Keri, his father was found dead on the kitchen floor, blood spilling from the man's arm onto the wooden flooring, staining it a dark crimson. After his father's suicide, Keri, being the caring girl she is, took him in and he's been living with her ever since.

"Good morning honey," Joe flashed Keri his award-winning smile that lit up his already bright blue eyes. Keri couldn't help but smile back at him, giving him a kiss.

"Morning to you too," she replied happily. Her mood suddenly went colder, "Today's the big day."

"Don't remind me," he grumbled in return. Keri simply rolled her eyes, a small grin spreading on her lips.

"I can remind you of a lot of things yet you choose this for me not to talk about?" she teased, "Alright...well then remember that time about a week ago-"

"You can shut up now," Joe intruded, "Now stop being immature and join me for some breakfast."

The two walked over to the table where Keri's parents had left two plates out. Not much was on that plate, just some bread with what looked like jam, but it was better than nothing. Keri and Joe sat down at the small wooden table and began to eat their jam and bread. No words fell between the two as they ate. Joe was the first to finish and kindly waited for Keri to finish before picking up both of the dirty dishes and placing them in the sink.

"Why must you be so good to me?" Keri questioned.

"The same reason why you're annoying, it's just in my blood," he responded with a wicked grin.

"Okay now you're just being rude," Keri paused for a moment, "Did my parents leave or something?"

"Not sure. They told me to give this to you though." Joe handed Keri a small slip of paper with some scribbles on it.

_ Keri, we are sorry we can't see you before the Reaping. Good luck and don't worry, the odds of being chosen aren't in your favor. With love, Mom and Dad_

Keri sighed as she finished the note and tucked it away in a pocket. Her parents wouldn't be there so support her on the most stressful and scary day of the year. She suddenly thought that if she were to look in a mirror right now, her bright green eyes would be dark, a less lucky color. Hopefully the green of her eyes wouldn't mess up her good luck she's had all her life.

* * *

The definition of sadness in any District Eight dictionary would have a picture of a unhealthy, pale boy with small features and washed out brown hair that sat on his head like a mop. Underneath the picture would be two words that identified the poor boy as Bradley Keystone. The boy was confusing to interact with. He would refuse to speak, but whenever it was about him, he would be chatty. He was always honest, but sometimes he would be too honest and hurt the person he was talking to with his antics. It was because people's dislike towards him that his selfish nature came about, despite his quietness. Bradley just wants to be noticed, and he would go to extremes to do so.

"Bradley! Come downstairs!" his mother yelled from the bottom of their small two-story house. Bradley rushed downstairs knowing better than to ignore his mother.

"Yes?" his stiff voice echoed in the living room. His brown eyes met his mother's and the two stared at each other for a slight moment. She looked exhausted with her hair a mess and bags underneath her brown eyes. The wrinkles on her face were more prominent.

"Bradley, dear, could you go and take these old clothes to the market for me?" his mother all but begged.

"Why?"

"Because I am your mother and if you still want a roof over your head you will help me."

"But I don't want to!" Bradley whined.

"_Bradley_," his mother warned him.

He felt his jaw clench and anger build up in his chest as he growled out, "No."

"Bradley Keystone you will be decent and take out these goddamn clothes," his mother looked on the verge of yelling.

"No."

"_Bradley_. Don't make me bring in your father."

"No! You can't make me!" he screamed.

"Yes I can and I am. Do as I say," his mother walked out of the room leaving behind a red-faced Bradley. Bradley walked over to the cloth bag and grabbed it with a frustrated scream. As he walked outside his front door, he passed his father. Proving to his father that he didn't want to do the job at hand, he screamed again and began stomping on the ground. His father simply pointed at the door before walking away to go find his wife. Bradley let out another shrill scream as he stomped his feet against the ground, striding outside.

As soon as he was outside, Bradley inhaled a deep breath of the still, humid air. He huffed the air back out with a grunt, upset. He dragged the bag against the gravel floor, probably cutting holes in it as he walked. His feet carried him to the nearest clothing store that was right outside the main circle of shops in the market. As soon as he arrived at the little shack that had seen better years, he opened the door and threw himself in. He left the bag of his old clothes near the counter before walking back outside in his usual silence. As he went back home, he saw several young kids running around, playing games. He nearly scoffed at the sight of people actually being as happy as they were on most terrifying day of the year.

Bradley made it back to his house and stood on the front porch for a second, thinking, contemplating, wondering. The only thought that plagued his mind was that he could only hope that in his mental dictionary his face and name would be listed next to the word redeem.

* * *

Keri flattened down her lavender dress with one hand, the other being held by Joe. The two stood in line with each other as they waited for their blood to be drawn for the Reaping. Being only fourteen and in a relationship raised a few eyebrows throughout the months from adults, but other fourteen year-olds saw them as endearing and models for what they wanted in life one day.

The two stuck out their arms and got their blood drawn. Shortly after, Joe and Keri were cleared and moved on towards the already massive group of people waiting for the Reaping. Their eyes met before they split their hands, gave each other weak smiles, and made their way over to their respected fourteen year-old sections.

Keri looked around and found Caroline making her way through the crowd to meet up. The two shared a quick hug when they met before they linked arms and power walked over to the second to last line for girls of their age.

"You nervous?" Caroline asked in her typical high-pitched voice.

The note that Keri's parents wrote her this morning which she brought with her to the Reaping seemed to weigh more after Caroline asked that question. She hesitated a moment before putting on a happy smile and responding with, "Not at all. We'll be okay."

In that moment, Keri's words barely convinced either girl as they stood in line, arms linked and fear in their eyes. Caroline smiled back at her best friend before responding with, "Your eyes are darker than usual."

Keri was about to respond but never got the chance to thanks to the Capital's anthem playing loud and clear to all the children. A man in a purple shirt, stunning silver pants, and zebra patterned boots made an appearance onstage halfway through the anthem. His blonde hair was curled, little purple streamers weaved within each curl, the effect of shine smothering his head. The Streamer Hair Man twisted his wrists around in either nervousness or anticipation as he practically bounced towards the microphone.

"Hello, hello, _hello_ everyone! I hope you all are excited! Two of you lucky children out there will escape this dump!" And suddenly, the Streamer Hair Man clasped his mouth and looked around him, clearly not meaning to have said that. A nearby Peacekeeper rolled his eyes at the amateur and grunted, nodding his head to motion him along. The Streamer Hair Man caught the cue and removed his hand from his face. With a hesitant smile, the man continued.

"A-Anyways...let's watch the Capital video! Shall we?" His hands flaunted towards the monitors around him and the video played on cue. The video was old, recycled, and, without a doubt, outdated. District Eight always got the short end of every stick in the Capital whether it be on new videos, new machines, whatever.

When the videos on the monitor ceased and the Capital's logo took over, the Streamer Hair Man took it as his cue to start talking once more.

"I know you all are eager," he practically bounced as he spoke, "so lets start the Reaping Drawings!"

His tanned hand dug around in the Girl's Bowl for a moment before he pulled out a cluster of different slips. He sieved the names through his fingers until one name remained. Going to the microphone, his deep voice called out, "Keri Ray!"

A collective series of gasps ran out amongst the fourteen year-olds. The most popular of them all had been Reaped? The girl with gold hair and a gentle curl? Had the lucky shade of green in her eyes betrayed her? Keri Ray also contemplated these questions as she walked up the center isle towards the stage where the Streamer Hair Man stood, motioning her towards him, a tight smile on his lips. He held out his hand to Keri and she took it, feeling a bit wobbly as she mounted the stage.

"Aren't you a pretty girl?" he commented before walking to the microphone. Of all the times to be complimented, Keri dreaded it right then and there. She felt sick to her stomach, her face probably turning an unattractive shade of green that matched her eyes.

Bradley Keystone couldn't help but notice the girl's shift in demeanor from afar. Being only thirteen, he could have been close to the stage, but decided to take the back row and blend in with the crowd. Besides, there was an abundance on twelve year-old boys, he would have been far from the stage regardless.

"Shall we go on to the boys now? I think we should!" The Streamer Hair Man physically bounced his way over to the Boy's Bowl, nearly knocking it over in the process. Once again, the tanned hand dug around in a sea of white and black before it settled on one slip. Fingers gingerly undid the tape the kept the slip folded and secretive.

"Bradley Keystone!"

Suddenly, Bradley thought back to this morning, and then he thought about his walk over to the Reaping Center. He had been utterly ignored, his spotlight stolen. And then he remembered the burning anger he couldn't get rid of this morning, and the new anger of being Reaped added on top of that right now. An idea sprung to his head: _They can't un-Reap me or force a boy to volunteer, plus everyone in the Capital and Districts are watching me right now. This is a time worth taking advantage of._ It only took a second for the plan to be put into action.

A scream of "No!" was heard. It was not sad, heartbroken, terrified, or panicked. Instead, it was angry and it was Bradley. He was screaming a series of different "no!"'s at different ranges and altitudes, attracting the attention of everyone. To add icing to the cake, he began stomping around and shoving people around him. Immediately, Peacekeepers began to fight their way through the boy towards the screaming thirteen year-old. They grabbed his arms and began to drag him away from where he was standing. Bradley fought and felt his face turn a bright red, his ears undoubtedly the same shade. He began kicking the legs of the Peacekeepers, but in their stiff outfit they didn't feel anything or even flinch at the young boy.

Bradley was practically thrown onstage by the Peacekeepers. He struggled to gain balance, the Streamer Hair Man offering a hand for help. Bradley smacked his hand away and stood straight as a board, arms crossed, a scowl on his red face.

"Uh, here are our tributes! Keri Ray and Bradley Keystone!" The Streamer Hair Man motioned for the two to shake hands, but Keri felt like if she moved her hand away from her mouth, she would vomit everywhere, and Bradley refused to listen to the man, still angry.

After watching the Reaping's Replay later that night, the two of them combined would be later found in Bradley's mental dictionary under the word unlucky.

* * *

**The District Eight Reapings are completed! Quick heads-up: I'm reposting this because I just bothered to proof-read it. Also, sorry that I haven't updated for another month. My end of July trip got bumped up a couple weeks and I just got back from it. I would have written this chapter on my vacation since I had a lot of downtime, but sadly, I had no Wi-Fi, therefore writing was impossible.  
**

**I'm going to sound desperate here but please, please, _please_ review this chapter! I asked for people to do that last chapter and only one person did. I would appreciate any feedback so that these don't become repeated chapters but with different tribute names for each District. It would mean the world to me if you could do that, plus it gives me some good motivation and inspiration to write more. Besides, we're almost done with these Reapings! Help me out so that we can get to the good stuff? Thanks!**

**And a side note you reviewers: you guys always make me laugh because 99% of the time you will write your opinion on the tributes I've written about in a Reaping. What makes me laugh is that you guys tend to start your opinions on them with "This isn't against you...", "No offense to you...", or something along those lines. Please don't think I take offense for your honest opinion on these characters, I'm just writing based off of what the creators gave me when they submitted these tributes. Plus, getting your opinions helps me get ideas towards how the Capital will think of these tributes. So please, don't be shy to give your honest opinion about anyone mentioned in these chapters or any previous chapters.**

**Aut viam inveniam aut faciam. ("I'll either find a way or make one.")**


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